Stupid Cupid
by indigo Potions
Summary: After That Incident in freshman year, Ed and Envy never want to speak to each other again. But the results of the Valentine's Day Match Up Grams change all that... for the better? EdEn, AU
1. Chapter 1

Originally we weren't going to tell you who we were. But then after seeing the low number of reviews, we decided to reveal ourselves. This is Potions For Foxes and indigo's ocean's Valentine's Day Collaboration.

We both thought that it'd be fun to do a collaboration, especially after reading _Good Omens_ by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman. So I went through my page of yet-unwritten fanfics and this was the one that we both decided on.

_Data-match_ does exist, but we don't own it. And don't really want to. It's lame and the questions can quite stupid (my junior high did match-up grams). But I digress.

indigo's ocean wrote the chapter, but I'm doing the AN for it, just to make things real confusing. Keep in mind this is her chapter. She's writing Envy.

Here's teh summary (I wrote it!)

**Summary: **Valentine's Day isn't Ed or Envy's favorite holiday, but when the crazy results of Match-Up Grams are revealed, Ametris Academy is turned upside down. Ed regrets freshman mistakes. Envy wonders if he can be trusted. Winry tries to unsingle herself. Russell and Ling do their own thing. And Sloth and Wrath are up to Something.

As for the title, well **Dark Blue** just didn't cut it anymore. Just kidding. No, love the song. But it didn't have much to do with the story. At all. Not even the theme song. We were going to call it "JUST REVIEW THE DAMN STORY" but you can't put profanity in the title. Bummer. "Match Made in Heaven" was suggested, but I didn't like that. I wanted "Match Up" but was informed that it just didn't cut it either.

So I decided to wake Indigo up at about 12:30 am to whine about the lack of reviews and visitors. She thought the title might have something to do with it. Me, I don't like changing things… but decided, why not? So, after a half hour of really bad names, I went back to my old habit: Song Lyrics/Titles.

And **Stupid Cupid** it was.

It was going to be **Stupid Cupid (quit hitting on me)** but FFN doesn't _do_ ()'s.

And I really think the sexiest (yet it's an intellectual sexy) or rather, _thrilling_, is 'hearing' my words in Indigo's writing. It's awesome. Her Envy is epic and far more badass than any Envy I've written. Her writing has a definite edge and she's not unwilling to stray into the hopeless side of things (compared to me, who _has_ to have nice happy endings somewhere).

The fact that Indigo is Catholic is also immensely helpful. While I have read The Confessions of St. Augustine, I don't know much about Catholicism (except that they raise real just exquisite boys). I've also never gone to a school that required uniforms.

But yes, I'm in love with her writing style. If you liked Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous you'll love this. And if you haven't read it, then you definitely should. (Be sure to bug her to update too!)

**Stupid Cupid (quit hitting on me)**

**-chapter one-**

I suppose the most important thing to start with in a story like this is an introduction. So, here I am – Envy Angeloff, age sixteen going on seventeen, high school junior, green-streaked dark hair and purple eyes, formerly single, enjoys long walks on the beach in the moonlight, et cetera.

Make any jokes about my last name and I'll kill you. It's pronounced '_on-jel-ov_', in case you were wondering.

Let's see. I don't eat much so I'll stay thin and pretty, though I have a weakness for chocolate. To be honest, I'm the type of guy most people would consider feminine, maybe even androgynous. Not that I help matters, since I grow my hair long and wear whatever the hell I want. It would be nice, though, if people would stop taking one look at me and automatically assuming I'm _a_) female, _b_) some kind of foliage, or _c_) gay.

Not that choice _c _is very far from the truth.

Unlike other males my age, I've never been much interested in girls' butts. And their breasts aren't that much better. Not that girls are unattractive, or anything – Sloth would probably skin me alive if I went that far. It's just that... I don't know. They're just so soft, and jiggly... It grosses me out.

Moving on.

At this moment, if there was one random fact about myself I would choose to share, I suppose it would be my slight piercing fetish. I have this _major_ thing for rings – lip rings, belly button rings, eyebrow rings, you name it. Although earrings are boring, and I think I might draw the line at a dick ring. And when girls put stuff down there, it's just _wrong_. Aside from that, if anyone in the vicinity has a piercing, rest assured I've noticed.

Back then, the only two people I knew to have broken my school's 'no piercing rule' were yours truly (more on that later) and another junior, Ling Yao. If you can't tell from the name, he's male, Chinese, and very, very attractive. Though, like Roy says, maybe that's just the lip ring.

That day, he was wearing a plain metal ring, dark and shiny, that arced over his lip. He had the most distracting habit of running his tongue over the lip ring when he talked, so that whenever I tried to strike up a conversation with him I would find my eyes wandering inexorably downward until they found his mouth. And then, whenever the ring would click against his teeth or be prodded by his tongue or even wiggle with the movement of his lips, I would lose my train of thought and my voice would just trail off and I would just staaare...

Even remembering is awkward.

So I had long since given up trying to be friends with him, even though Roy still sometimes made a half-hearted attempt on my behalf. I was fine with just looking. And fantasizing. A lot.

The only class we had together was AP English, which was great – the desks in that class were divided into two rows on each half of the classroom, facing each other. I sat in the front corner closest to the teacher's desk, and he sat in the front next to the desk that was directly across from mine. I was able to stare sidelong at him for forty-five excruciating minutes without getting caught. Except by Roy. But he knew the signs, so he didn't count.

"You're drooling, Angel," he said two minutes after the bell had rung and Ling had finally gotten settled. "Really, you are."

I tore my eyes away from Ling to glare at him. "_Don't_ call me that!" I hissed, after hastily wiping my mouth, just in case. He was the only person who could call me 'Angel' and get away with it. Greed tried whenever he saw me, but I don't have anything against severely injuring a family member.

He smirked. I hate that. I mean, all _right_, he's pretty attractive. But he's my best friend, and intent on making my life hell in so many ways. I would never want him as a boyfriend. "See those papers on your desk?" he said, gesturing at the small pile. "You were supposed to be passing them around to the of the class. Five minutes ago."

"Oh. _Oh_! Fuck, Roy, why didn't you tell me? The only reason I'm passing this class is because of you!" Which, incidentally, wasn't really true – when I put my mind to it I _can_ do well in school, and my sister Sloth has a major thing for literature in general.

The asshole chuckled to himself as I grabbed a packet and shoved the rest of the stack into the chest of the poor girl sitting behind me. Rose, I think her name was. Quiet, shy, good-looking for a girl. I don't know her very well.

When I turned back around in my seat, I caught the eyes of the person sitting directly across from me, to Ling's left. Edward Elric. Edward _fucking_ Elric, almost friend and bane of my existence in freshman year. Both. We actually hit it off _really_ well, before he asked me out. And I asked him if he was gay. I glared at him out of reflex.

Roy punched me in the shoulder, hard enough to maybe leave a bruise. I jerked my arm out of his reach. "What the hell?"

"Look at your desk," he said, nodding significantly at the stapled packet. I shot another glare at him, then looked down.

I realized that the pink paper should have tipped me off. It was a match-up quiz. No, scratch that – a _Match-Up Gram_, like a singing gram or a candy gram, only one that will tell you your perfect date. I had never in my life desired a singing gram _or_ a candy gram (even though I like sugar, the calories are pretty much a complete waste), and I didn't think a 'Match-Up Gram' (oh, give me a break) would be much better. Though... I did like the idea of soulmates.

"Too bad the matches are only boy-girl," Roy said, leaning over to poke me in the shoulder. I would have snapped at him, literally, only at that moment "Professor" Rix turned around and walked towards the front of the room. He gave me a _look_, I know he did. That man has it in for me, I swear he does.

"Alright," he said, grinning wickedly. "You know I'm not much for this Valentine's Day crap."

"I'm not either, believe me," I muttered, looking down at my 'Match-Up Gram' (the cheesiness – it was killing me) and riffling through the first few pages. I tuned out most of Rix's speech. He's one of those snarky bastards that always have to inject their own opinion into _whatever_ they're doing. A lot like Roy, actually. But I'd want Rix for a boyfriend even _less_ than I would want my best friend.

"- and Yao," Rix said, "who hold some shady sort of position in that shadowy body." What the _fuck_ was he talking about? I heard Ling's last name. Out of habit, I glanced over at the ponytailed teenager. He was leaning his chin on his hand, doodling some sort of scribbles in the margin of his 'Match-Up Gram' (gag me with a spoon). Too bad the quiz didn't take sexual orientation into account. I would have definitely put _gay_, just so I would have had a chance with Ling. Then again, with _my_ luck, I would have gotten matched up with Roy.

"Of course," Rix continued, "you're probably supposed to talk to our very own class representatives: Angeloff and Whoever-I-Want-Out-Of-My-Class-When-The-Stupid-Senate-Is-Meeting."

That proved it. He hated me. For revenge, I ignored the rest of his speech. I got enough stupid witticisms from Roy and company (company being myself, mostly), thank you very much.

Roy punched me in the shoulder. _Again_. I whirled around, about to say something, but he shook his head and gestured to the paper. "We're starting," he mouthed.

Oh. That was just great.

The first page seemed to be a general information sheet. _This is your very own Match-Up Gram_ (whee) _from _. And then blah, blah, blah about how this would measure our compatibility with a member of the opposite sex – of course, America isn't _that_ open minded yet – and that the results in no way, shape, or form influenced our future and were often wrong. So, in other words, 'We suck and don't go slit your wrists when you're not matched up with the he/she/it of your dreams.' Right. Got it.

So. First things first – male or female. Hmm. This would determine from which side of the fence our matches were chosen. My pencil hovered for a minute over 'female', before I shook my head. Tempting as it was, I had a feeling Rix might go through our answers after we handed in the quizzes. He tended to do asinine things like that. Reluctantly, I filled in 'male'.

What grade? Junior.

My parents? Um. Now that's a tricky one. Technically, they weren't divorced. They just didn't live together, and never had. But if I put 'not divorced' – oh, there was the solution to my problem. No, they weren't divorced. But I lived with my father.

Name? Envy Angeloff. Oh, shit, it asked for a middle initial too. Arbitrarily, I picked G. For green, like my hair, since my mother didn't actually scribble a middle name onto my birth certificate. I'm just glad I got a kickass first name, even though she had to ask the doctor how to spell 'Envy'. She told me that story like it was something to be proud of.

I filled out the rest of the information quickly, and was about to turn to the next page when Rix cleared his throat. "Elric, this isn't a test," he said, startling half the class. "There's no grade, quit trying to steal off Angeloff's answers!"

I jumped a little and looked up at Ed, bristling. Not only did he spend the first six months of freshman year under the impression that I was a _girl_, he also has a _really_ obvious crush on my sister. Which is stupid, because he's a total jerk, and even though they flirt with each other all the time I know that Sloth doesn't mean it. She barely talks about him at all outside of AP English, which means they're not even very close. She only dates people she knows pretty well... and then people she doesn't know at all. Hmm.

He was probably trying to look at _my _answers because he couldn't see hers, and thought that since we're siblings, we'd end up compatible. As if that would happen.

Then again, Rix seems to like making jokes with my name. Asshole. He could have just said that because he wanted to say 'steal _off _Angel_off'_. Funny, Rix. Fuckin' hilarious.

_Anyway_. Miss 'Match-Up Gram' (aren't we cool?) got even more personal on the next page. As I read the questions I imagined them being asked by a middle aged lady, with dyed red hair piled up on her head, a purple coat trimmed with fox fur, and a string of white pearls around her neck. Her fingernails were painted blood red and she was getting fat.

Hurrah for a vivid imagination.

_Your ideal date is:_

_Going to a move_

_B. A big party_

_C. Just hanging out_

_D. Go to the game_

_E. I don't date_

I remember my first date with Martel, my current _ex_-girlfriend. Our relationship lasted for all of two weeks, and is one of the reasons I'm almost one hundred percent sure that I prefer boys. She had been invited to this huge-ass party held by some random chick I don't know. She got drunk, I got drunk, and the next thing I remember is waking up in the backseat of Russell's car. With him snoring on top of me. Luckily I still had the majority of my clothes on, and was able to sneak out before he woke up. He was in AP English with me too, and talking to him was still pretty awkward – I wasn't sure how much _he_ remembered either.

So choice B was a definite no.

Second date with Martel was a movie. Both booze and Russell were conspicuously absent, though I did manage to convince Martel to get a lip ring. I don't remember much of the movie, except that it sucked.

Choice A was no, too.

And sports suck. So I only had one option left, since I _do_ date. Hanging out would be nice, though it would be so much cooler if they had stuff like going ice skating or bumming around in the coffeeshop at the bookstore like Sloth and I do. Or running around the mall like crazy, trying on all kinds of clothes and buying maybe one thing. If they're lucky. Hm. Maybe that counted as hanging out.

C was the lucky letter, then.

I glanced up – Rix is sitting at his desk, tapping his fingers and keeping an eye on the clock. He was probably going to snatch the quizzes from us as soon as he could. I figured I had better start picking up the pace.

Fake designers – only a girl would ask that, don't be stupid. I bet not even Sloth knew about that kind of stuff; she's into thrift store clothing and Forever 21 more than Banana Republic or whatever. And why the hell were they called _fake _designers, anyway? Favorite Disney princess – Jasmine, easily. She was cool and did things for herself instead of sleeping all day or singing with pretty animals or reading books. Got to ride on a magic carpet, too.

I wondered if I had somehow been slipped the test for girls, especially when, later, I got asked for my favorite actress. Queen Latifa – I remembered her from an ad for some environmental movie with a little polar bear, but that's about it. Kiera Knightley was great in _Pirates of the Caribbean_, except at the end of the last movie when everyone got to see a little bit _too_ much of her legs. That ruined the movie for me, I think, especially when I saw it with Roy in the theater. Afterwards even _he_ said it was pointless. After saying it was hot.

Angelina Jolie's lips are too big; call me petty but I can't forgive bad facial features like that. So she was out, leaving Lindsay Lohan and Julia Roberts. The Lohan chick screams 'bitch' and uses too much fake tanning lotion, and didn't she get caught stoned and speeding? On the other hand, Julia Roberts has _class_, and _Pretty Woman_ was a great movie no matter what Sloth says about the evils of prostitution.

I pick her.

_Your dream vacation would be_

_Visiting a tropical paradise_

_B. Taking a cruise through the Mediterranean and stopping at famous historical sites_

_C. Accompanying an ecology team to help save the whales_

_D. A safari in Africa_

_E. Staying at home_

Ooh, that's a tough one. I all sounded like awesome vacations, except choice E. Maybe if I was obsessed with Warcraft and Halo and stupid things like that, but I actually had a life. And I didn't want to spend it in dusty old museums, or laying down my life to save a whale. According to the Discovery Channel, they had got plenty of people watching out for them already. Africa was all well and good, but it seemed kind of messy. I had to pick A, the tropical paradise – lounging around all day in the _shade_ (I like my skin pale), sipping mai-tais and things like that and watching the sun set over the ocean... perfect.

_Politically, you would consider yourself_

_Very liberal_

_B. Moderate_

_C. Very conservative_

_D. Don't know, don't care_

Sloth was the political one, not me. I mean, sure, I paid attention to the election and all that shit, and cheered on Inauguration Day with the rest of the fucking world, but it's really not that big of a deal. As long as they were saving rainforests and keeping Mom's bed open at the homeless shelter... I marked D.

This was such a stupid quiz. I didn't know why I was bothering.

I'd date someone with a car, or money. Preferably both, but since we only have one choice I'll pick money, since I'm chronically broke.

I preferred shopping at thrift stores with Sloth, but since that isn't an option we'll go with Hot Topic. Made me sound like such an emo but they have cool stuff. Like chains. And really cute corsets that I would never think of wearing since I'm a _guy_.

My mom shops at... Geez. Goodwill? Wal-Mart was the closest; I put that.

My ideal pet would be a cat, since, sadly, ferrets aren't on there and neither are rats.

I had never gone camping and never planned to. I'm one of those people has to shower every twenty-four hours at least, otherwise my hair gives me hell.

_What is your favorite type of music?_

_Rap_

_B. Hip-hop_

_C. Country_

_D. Indie_

_E. Metal_

Rap sucked, and hip-hop was just some male singer crooning with a beat. I all sounded stupid anyway. Country was always about someone's lost dog or car or baby or booze or girlfriend or Jesus – or, sometimes, all of them, and metal was entertaining though it tended sometimes scared the shit out of me. My favorite type of music was indie or alternative. Classical was second on my list and not on the 'Match-Up Gram' (leaves a bad taste in my mouth). Really – have you ever, honestly, heard Mozart's Requiem? Verdi's Requiem? Mendelssohn's Concerto in E minor? I swear to you, that song is sex. On a stick. And any of those pieces will change your perception about classical music.

I abhorred intimate conversations.

First dates were first dates; I guessed how great they were depended on the person.

Singing. That was a hard one. I didn't generally, but everything changes in the shower. I ended up putting choice D, 'When no one can hear me'.

Sports sucked in general.

_What do you feel about breakfast?_

_Favorite meal of the day_

_B. Great, if I have time_

_C. I hate breakfast_

_D. Don't care either way_

I never ate breakfast, unless Lust bought blueberry muffins. I didn't like breakfasts at restaurants; they tended to be full of greasy potatoes and greasy scrambled eggs and greasy bacon and other greasy, fatty foods that made me feel disgusting after I ate and probably took three days to work off completely. I put C.

And when I was sick, if people came and got all mushy-gushy asking me how I'm feeling, I tended to throw things at them. But if I was left alone, I got really bored and start feeling neglected. I decided to put E, 'Depends on my mood'.

How _long_ was this stupid quiz? The next section was the ideal girlfriend/boyfriend bit, which was pretty much every single girlfriend/boyfriend cliché Miss Match-Up could think of. I sighed, looked at the clock, skimmed through the next few questions, and wondered who the hell thought of giving us this quiz.

In a girlfriend/boyfriend, looks came first, and then personality. Though I wasn't not sure how true that was – after all, I had chosen Martel for her looks and we hadn't lasted long at all. And Roy was really gorgeous but if I went out with him we'd probably break up within a week. And Ling...

I glanced up at Ling. He was busy with his own test, wiggling his lip ring as he thought. Damn. Maybe I'd match perfectly with a girl who matched with him – that was the closest I could hope to get. I rolled my eyes, and turned back to my own lovely 'Match-Up Gram' (hooray).

I'd go to the action movie and take her to the chick flick later. And buy her candy, probably, though it would make her fat.

If my girlfriend/boyfriend had an awful day, I would... probably leave them alone. That's what Martel and Sloth always wanted, and I had never really been friends with anyone who would want a cuddle and a movie, or a romantic dinner. Well, maybe Roy would have wanted a romantic dinner, but with a girlfriend, not me. ...A romantic dinner and then really hot sex afterwards.

_Your ideal girlfriend/boyfriend would_

_Always be ready to shoot some hoops_

_B. Show up after a bad day with a movie or a carton of ice cream_

_C. Love playing video games_

_D. Get along well with your parents and/or family_

_E. Always be willing to help you with your homework_

Well, shit. Those were all pretty good choices, I thought, except for A since I didn't play basketball. Um, and then D wasn't that great, either, since _I_ didn't get along that well with my immediate family and having a significant other that _did _would be really awkward. I got enough homework help for three people from Wrath, which was utterly humiliating but quite handy, especially in math. And I didn't really play video games, though having a boyfriend/girlfriend that could, and loved them, would be pretty kick ass.

B, I decided. I would leave my boyfriend/girlfriend alone but if _I_ had a bad day, they were expected to show up at my door with a horror movie we could watch together, and cuddle on the couch, and laugh at the horribly cheesy scary parts. Or we could watch a chick flick, and laugh at _everything_ because everything in a chick flick is horrible and cheesy. Like this 'Match-Up Gram' (enough, already).

I liked salad the best, because it was the least fattening.

My ideal wedding would be in a ship on the ocean.

Horror movies were my favorite, hands down.

_If you were a fruit, you would be a_

_Passion fruit_

_B. Cranberry_

_C. Kiwi_

_D. Coconut_

_E. Lemon_

What the fuck kind of question was _that_?! Why would anyone even want to be a fruit? I tapped my pencil against my lip. Passion fruit – someone who was horny or passionate or ridiculously romantic would put that to sound witty. (I wondered what Roy's response was.) I had never tasted a cranberry in my life, just cranberry sauce and cranberry juice and I wasn't a big fan of either. I thought there was also a band called The Cranberries but I had never heard anything by them so it didn't really matter. Kiwis... reminded me of those round fat Australian birds. Coconuts... were all right, though a bit of an acquired taste. I supposed I would count as an acquired taste too, but in a different way. And I refused to even _think _about coconut milk.

That left choice E, lemon. Oh well, what the hell. I filled in the bubble next to E and wondered what it said about my personality. Hopefully Miss Matchup wasn't a fanfic fiend like Sloth. I stopped being her editor when she discovered smut. _Girl _on _girl _smut. Wonder what would happen if Elric found out about _that_.

Hmm. I would never make a homemade birdhouse, unless I was forced to under torture.

I didn't do martial arts, though Daddy-dearest had me try for a week.

Same with wrestling. Sports suck.

After I had completed the fifth and final page – a series of random and utterly pointless questions about hobbies – I put my pencil down and flipped over the stupid 'Match-Up Gram' (no more please). There was a heart on the back and a little note: _We will have your results in time for Valentines Day!_ So they would make sure to get it back to us just in time to ruin some poor girl's life. Or make her day. Either way, I wasn't very enthusiastic.

I glanced over at Roy, who had finished his questionnaire five minutes earlier and was tapping his foot impatiently against the side of his desk. He winked. I rolled my eyes. Ling was still working, it looked like, or doodling, because the way his pencil was swirling all around the page made it clear he wasn't doing anything remotely like filling in bubbles. I wondered what he was drawing. Then he started messing with his lip ring again and I forgot everything I had been thinking before.

He had this really alluring way of playing with his piercing – first he would slide his tongue out of the corner of his mouth, swish it around a bit and wiggle the ring, and then bite his lip, nudging it with his teeth. Sometimes he would run his tongue over his upper lip too, and that would make the lip ring wiggle. Or he would bring up his hand and mess with it, turning it around and around. Before I got too distracted, I would generally find myself wondering if it hurt.

Today he seemed content to play with it just a little. _Swish_, _bite_, repeat. _Swish_, _bite_, repeat. I hoped Roy was watching me enough to let me know whether I was drooling.

Roy also kept telling me that my staring was totally obvious. I chalked that up to him already knowing about my fetish and sitting next to me in class, but just in case I glanced around the classroom, to see if anyone watching. And saw Ed, staring at me, staring at Ling, who was staring at the scribbles on his pink paper.

What an utterly pointless, messed up, practically nonexistent love triangle. Out of long habit, I _glared_.

If it wasn't for Ed, the vast majority of the student body wouldn't think I was gay. Then again, vast majority of the student body would also be laboring under the delusion that I was a _girl_, so maybe I do have something to thank him for. Yeah, right.

He was great in freshman year. We had several classes together, and since we were one of the few that didn't come from the uppity prep schools to start with, we bonded over our shared awkward social status. We liked the same music. We both had a slightly dangerous fondness for chocolate and little relatives that were ahead of the curve in weirdness. Cousin Wrath, because of _way _too many things to count, and Ed's brother Al, because of his fondness for friends that he would bring home and care for like stray cats. And that weird art school.

Then he asked me out. And I asked him if he was gay. I think I mentioned that before. What I _didn't_ mention was that his response was to yell something like, "Fuck, you're a GUY?!"

I don't quite remember what happened after that. I think I hit him. Maybe I gave him a black eye. And then I think I ran.

Yeah, I think I _did_ give him a black eye. That was when Roy came up to me and asked if I was the badass homo, and I realized what kind of rumors had been spread by whoever had witnessed that altercation. I punched him in the face, too, but he didn't get a black eye. And then we became friends. ...In retrospect, that probably only made the rumors worse.

Somehow, Ed managed to shake the rumors – probably because he got a girlfriend. Can't remember who it was, but they were pretty serious for a while. According to Sloth. But his words (_you're a GUY?!_) are going to follow me around for the rest of my high school career, even though I had Martel, who was a senior and pretty hot. We only lasted two weeks, though, and she basically confirmed my orientation. Still. I _am_ a guy, even if I wear girl pants because I'm skinny and they fit better. Even though I do sometimes come to school wearing nail polish or eyeliner. Even though my hair's nearly down to my waist. I _am_ a guy.

I still couldn't believe he managed to think I was a girl for that whole time. Hello, Ed, where are the boobs? T and A and I had _neither_. Bitch.

But, back to the story...

"Angeloff, Elric," Rix said suddenly, and we started and turn to stare. "Stop trying to off each other by glaring; it's not going to work."

The whole class stared at us. He hated me. He really did.

Edward rolled his eyes and pulled out some kind of crap thriller. I glared at him for another second before glancing at Roy, who shrugged in a 'What are you gonna do about it?' gesture. Nothing. I wasn't going to do anything. Edward fucking Elric could pretend I was a girl, cultivate his stupid crush on my sister, and I wasn't going to do _anything_. It didn't matter anyway.

Ling had looked up too, so I couldn't start staring again. Instead, I looked blankly at the pink paper of my 'Match-Up Gram' (not so funny any more) until the end of the period.

**-end chapter one-**


	2. Chapter 2

Like Envy, I really think piercings are sexy. It was kinda inevitable that this is a major part of the story. Especially after PFF started teasing me incessantly. Just like Ling does to Envy. And what Ed contemplates doing to him. With that said, Ed is such a bastard (as usual), and writing match-up questions is an awful pain. I hope you enjoyed, though! Be nice and give us lots of lovely reviews!

To be totally honest, I really adore PFF's writing style. She comes up with ideas straight out of a chick flick and makes them work, which coming from someone who hates chick flicks, is a huge complement. Plus, she's very in touch with normal teenage things, like fashion. I suppose now would be a good time to reveal that I don't, in all honesty, know what a Dolce & Gabbana outfit would look like. I've never been inside a Banana Republic and I've never read or watched Gossip Girls. I don't even watch the horror movies Envy likes. So working with someone like PFF has been great. She comes at things from angles I would never think of, and makes great characterizations. Lacking the actual copy of this chapter, I can't highlight any specific instances. But this whole thing is great.

**Stupid Cupid (quit hitting on me)**

**-chapter two-**

Let's get a few things straight. I, Edward L. Elric, do not like Valentines Day. In fact, the whole month of February is kind of objectionable. Or at least the first fourteen days are. After that the hype dies down and things start going back to normal.

It's not that I'm some sort of Valentine purist either. The fact that Hallmark has taken over the holiday, along with the floral and chocolate industries, does not bother me. And unlike Winry, the fact that I'm always, _always_, single on Valentines Day is not an issue. The fact that couples act more couple-like isn't it either. I hate, loathe, and despise obscene displays of public affection, regardless of the date.

No, if anything it's that people expect me to be _excited_ about Valentines Day. Like it's some sort of special day, like at any moment we'll all hold hands and dance some impossibly choreographed dance routine.

I don't like musicals either.

I'm not gay, so I've never felt left out or saddened that I could never express my 'love' for someone openly. I've had _girlfriends_ before, so it's not like I fail at relationships. I just have really awful timing.

Take freshman year. I was dating Rose. She was a total babe that year, a completely different chick than the braces-and-glasses girl of 8th grade. She'd gotten contacts and her braces off. That and the skin tight jeans look really suited her. Along with the skin tight shirts. T and A, is all I can say. I mean, seriously. Before she'd hidden under baggy clothes and a giant ski jacket, but hot damn. She revealed it all the first day of school.

I still remember that outfit. I suppose a lot of boys, and probably even some girls, remember _that outfit_. It put Daisy Duke to shame. Rose Akimoto was sexy. And, she liked me. I liked her. I really did. We hit it off great. We had most of our classes together, including PE. It went wonderfully, until Valentines Day happened.

I still don't know what I did wrong. I'd only meant to send her a stupid Valentine Gram, nothing super fancy. Problem was Winry was in choir and so was Ling. Together they convinced me to go for the most expensive, premium singing gram. Wrong move apparently.

Or maybe I just didn't move fast enough. Last period was obviously not the best time for her to receive it. Especially because she broke up with me during lunch.

Yeah. Not fun.

We did manage to get back together after about a week of sniffling on her part and unabashed staring at her two best features (hint: they're not her eyes) on my part. However, the whole Valentines thing drove a wedge between us.

Sophomore year was a decent Valentines Day, as far as they go. Completely drama and Rose free. I should've suspected something. Fate was obviously saving something up for junior year.

'Course, when I was sitting in AP English waiting for the bell to ring I wasn't thinking about that. Sure, it was the second week of February, but the teacher was _not_ one of the touchy feely types. Everything was normal. Winry wasn't trying to unsingle herself. Ling wasn't violating the entire dress code (just the part about peircings). Russell was actually awake. Rose and I were even starting to become friends again. Granted it was an extremely tentative and fragile friendship, but still, it was better than her giving me the evil eye.

So, it came as a complete surprise when the green haired weirdo finally passed out the pale pink forms to the rest of the class.

Valentine Match Ups. Can it possibly get any worse?

I spent the next month and half discovering that yes, it could get worse. Much worse.

"Hey Ed," a girl said softly, just walking in. She slid into the seat behind me. It was Sloth Angeloff, the reason why my quasi-friendship with Rose was so shaky.

"Hey," I said back, nodding to her. I smiled. Rose instantly ducked her head down, her hair obscuring her face. Fuck. This would be another reason Rose and I weren't on great terms. She still liked me.

Winry, as usual, has a different opinion. Something about how averting one's eyes is a rather common reaction to my salivation over Sloth.

I keep telling her that using big words does not count for extra credit.

She just keeps hitting me with that goddamn wrench.

"So, you're doing the match ups?" Sloth asked. Try as she might she just can't keep the eagerness out of her voice. Actually, it's a little surprising. I mean, she's never seriously flirted with me before. And as awesome as it would be to have the two hottest girls in school in love with me, it'd be entirely too much drama.

Plus, I _like _being a bachelor. Winry can complain all she likes about how she doesn't have a boyfriend or anyone special. She's a girl though and it's different. She doesn't have to deal with mind games or crazy drama or insane jealousies. She's _lucky_.

"Yeah," I said shrugging. "Wanna tell me your answers, see if we'll get matched up together?"

"Ah, no," Sloth said firmly. "That wouldn't be fair to the other people. Just be honest and we'll see what happens."

"Right," I said, giving her a wary look. Why were these stupid match ups such a big deal? It wasn't like it was going to tell you who you would end up with for the reset of your life. It was probably just some stupid logarithm that matched people based on the similarity of their answers. Like that would ever work.

Though, judging how most of the girls have shut up and are actually waiting for class to begin, this whole thing could have some merit. The AP English teacher, Professor Rix, finally stops puttering around in the corner and walks to the front of the room.

He is, quite possibly, the strangest teacher I've ever had (with the lone exception of when Izumi Curtis subbed for a day). First off, he's not _really_ a professor. Or well, he's _going _to be a professor. He just needs to get tenured at the university. Still, he has us call him Professor Rix. Even other faculty has started addressing him as that. Though, the decrepit old coot (he happens to be the department chair or something) still calls him Kurtz-y Boy.

Aside from that, Professor Rix is well over six-feet tall, does not believe in rules or political correctness, and keeps a contraband slingshot in his pocket at all times. Winry likes to point out that Professor Rix bears a certain resemblance to Norman Bates (from the movie Psycho). This may, in fact, be true. However, I've never seen the movie.

"Alright," Rix says, grinning broadly. "You all know I'm not normally one for these Valentines Day crap. Too much _feelings_ and all that jazz; however." Rix sighed and his tones became that of a defeated man. "Student Government stipulated that _every_ class had to fill them out, else the principal would be forced to get involved."

Professor Rix surveyed the room, making eye contact with everyone he knew to be in Student Government. I resisted the urge to sink low in my seat.

Not that the whole principal intervention was my idea. Oh no, no I was just in Student Government and therefore _knew things_. Things I could've told Rix, but decided not to. After all, it's illegal for him to lay a finger on me. Not so with Winry.

She's actually the one responsible for this. I'm sure. She _says_ that it wasn't just her and that a lot of other girls didn't want teachers to screw up the match-ups. Riiight. There is no way Winry would've done a thing if the match ups had been distributed in any other class. Nope. No when her super-secret love interest (who's name she refused to tell me) is in AP English with her. Winry sees nothing wrong with "evening the odds," as she puts it.

"If I find out… Never mind," Professor Rix said and ripped a sheet of pale pink paper from his desk. "Anyway, I have to read this stupid script to you, courtesy of Stupid Government. Anyone with complaints can address them to Elric, Tringham, and Yao, who hold some shady sort of position in that shadowy body. Of course, you're probably supposed to talk to our very own class representatives: Angeloff and Whoever-I-Want-Out-Of-My-Class-When-The-Stupid-Senate-Is-Meeting.

"But I digress," Rix said and glared at me. I held my hands up. I was innocent. I always made sure to have no part, whatsoever, in anything Student Government did around Valentines Day.

"Hello students," Rix said, with a large, false, and extremely terrifying smile on his face. "Today we will be filling out Match Up Grams, courtesy of . This questionnaire uses a very complicated and complex—and no doubt very copyrighted." Rix slipped back into his normal voice. He plastered his fake grin on before beginning again. "Logarithm to decipher which of your classmates you would be most compatible with. Therefore, it is in your best interest to answer each question carefully and honestly. Do not read into the questions. You will have 120 minutes to write three—wait, no that's the AP test, my bad.

"You have an unlimited amount of time—except you don't. I have—_had_ plans for today and I will be _very_ displeased if this stupid thing interferes with them. Just answer the stupid questions and turn them over once you're done. Read or do something quietly until everyone is finished, any questions?" Rix asked. Russell raised his hand.

"Yes, Tringham?" Rix said, resting his head on his hand. He looked at Russell through his fingers.

"Can we kill each other?" Russell said brightly. I rolled my eyes. Rix slumped further down, his hand on his forehead. He looked like he wanted nothing more than to pop a few Advils and call in sick. Russell just smiled. He tends to have that effect on people.

"Can you do it quietly?" he asked, not looking up. Russell nodded excitedly.

"Have anyone in mind?"

Russell pointed to me. I glared at him. Was this necessary?

"As long as you do it quietly and clean up the mess when you're done," Professor Rix said. "I don't see how there's a problem. Now just fill out your stupid match things so we can actually do something instead of wasting an entire hour of my life."

I stared at the pink sheet of paper.

Was I male or female?

Male.

Last time I check I was male.

I was a junior.

My name was Edward L. Elric.

No, my parents were not divorced.

Yes, I lived with both of them.

I looked up and sighed. This test was beginning to sound like The Common Application. I was being matched up with some girl, not applying to Harvard. This was getting ridiculous.

"Elric, this isn't a test. There's no grade, quit trying to steal Angeloff's answers!" Rix barked out. The green haired _freak_ glared me. I glared back. I don't want his answers. I think I would die if I got matched up with him, Ametris Academy's resident weirdo and suspected fag.

Of course, he's not really gay—I think. I mean, he's never outed himself. That I know of. Not that I would know—or care, if he did.

Winry keeps telling me that if I really want to get with Sloth, I should stop referring to him as 'the green haired freak' and maybe use his name. Given how close Sloth and he are, Winry may have a point.

And Russell won't stop giving me shit for referring to him as a 'fag.' It's just a habit. It doesn't even have to be offensive. I could just be calling Envy a cigarette. I _am_ stopping though. Russell's taken to punching me every time I say the stupid word. Even Al's jumped on the bandwagon. Something to do with his best friend, Fletcher, being gay and getting a lot of shit for coming out.

So, I'm basically a horrible person.

My mom's Catholic.

According to Freud, it's really her fault.

But no, seriously, I don't have a problem with gays. Russell, with his constant flirting, has seen to that. Russell does not discriminate. I think his motto may be "sex is sex."

Sloth poked me in the back.

"Still on the first page?" she asked. I shrugged and quickly finished the first page.

The first real dating question readings:

_Your ideal date is:_

_A. Going to a movie_

_B. A big party_

_C. Just hanging out_

_D. Go to the game_

_E. I don't date_

C. Definitely C.

But girls don't really go for C. They tend to gravitate towards A or worse, dinner and a movie, or worst yet, a really nice dinner. Those types of evenings always go wrong. The restaurant loses your reservations. The waiter's a douche bag and flirts with your girl. It's raining. The movie sucks. Your little brother is at the same movie with his gay friend and your date is homophobic.

Just stuff like that.

Better to stay home and hope the family (my or hers) doesn't ruin it.

On second thought…

I look at the next question.

_My favorite fake designer is:_

_A. Louis Vuitton_

_B. Fendi_

_C. Gucci_

_D. Dolce & Gabbana_

_E. Only a girl would ask_

Sadly, it's not E. (I thank Al for this one). The fact that I actually _know_ any of these all very real designers (fake? Wtf?), well that's entirely Winry's fault. Normally I would not have any clue who was who in the fashion world. But as she tends to call Russell or I when ever the latest jackass leaves her… Well, let's just say that I tend to be more available than Russell, and as such, know certain things. Like, it's a good idea to have Ben & Jerry's coupons in your wallet, even if they're expired. And more than any straight, single guy should know about Gossip Girl.

I answer D.

I _like_ plaid.

It's very sexy.

So very, very sexy.

That Blaire girl wears it well.

_On a date you mostly:_

_A. Offer to pay_

_B. Always pay_

_C. Never offer_

_D. Never pay_

_E. No money!_

I pay. I always pay. Unless, the girl really wants to pay and is willing to fight for it. Seriously, my mom's Catholic, remember. Even though she married the most atheistic man on the face of God's Green Earth, she still drags that man to church, every single Sunday.

God, I hate Latin.

And priests.

And those _creepy _alter boys.

_You prefer late nights at:_

_A. All night bowling_

_B. Denny's_

_C. Starbucks_

_D. Wal-mart_

_E. Your room_

My room. I _like_ my alone time. Though, I suppose if I had to spend my night with a bunch of people, it would be bowling. The question is, do I want to sound like a cloistered hermit or people person. I'm neither really. Pity we don't get to rank these questions.

I'll go with E. I'd rather end up with someone who understands the concept of alone time than an all-day-and-night party owl.

_My favorite seat in my house:_

_A. Couch_

_B. Bed_

_C. Recliner_

_D. Floor_

_E. Kitchen Counter_

Floor? Wtf?

I'm going for couch. Though I'd imagine Sloth would be pretty sexy looking up on a counter top, so maybe… but what if this question tells you something about the personality?

I erased my answer.

B. was just so much sexier than A.

Yet so much lazier.

Couch is lazy, bed is sexy, recliner is beyond lazy, floor is freakish, and kitchen counter is… the kitchen counter is where Al sits. And he is so weird. Thank God Mom decided to put him in that super advanced musical school.

Me, I like _my_ chair.

But that's not a choice.

B it is then.

_Which actress do you like best:_

_A. Queen Latifa_

_B. Kiera Knightley_

_C. Angelina Jolie_

_D. Lindsay Lohan_

_E. Julia Roberts_

When did Lindsay Lohan become an actress? I thought she was a bad singer. Definitely not her though. She's a complete talent sink.

Can't say I like A or B much. Knightley is too, bony. And tries too much. Plus, she just about killed Pride & Prejudice. The BBC version is much better. Shut up. It's not my fault that my childhood was spent in my mom's bedroom while she ironed. Apparently Al and I were not trusted out of her sight and she decided that the BBC's take on Jane Austin was good for hypnotizing us or actually liked it.

I bubbled in C.

Hey, I saw the Changeling. Plus she does action films, what more can a guy ask for? A Harvard law degree? She does triathlons shortly after pregnancies. She has talent, a wide range of abilities, and knives.

_What would you change at your school:_

_A. Mascot_

_B. School Colors_

_C. Start Time_

_D. School Name_

_E. Cell phone block_

It's not on here, but I'd definitely change the Academy's policy on peircings. Sure, Ling breaks it every day, but he's special. His parents didn't care about the letters home and teachers eventually stopped complaining. The fact that his mom came in and _screamed _at the principal in Chinese may have something to do with this.

But my mom doesn't scream, Chinese or English.

Still, I'd like to be able to get something a bit more … ah, _visible_. Like a small lip ring, off to the side of my lower lip. Or maybe just a stud on my upper lip, somewhere in the middle of the line between my nose and the edge of my mouth. Only, I'd want to lick it, so possibly a quarter inch lower.

As you can see, I've thought at this quite a bit. I'm not new to peircings either. I have two. But you can't see them, especially with the stupid uniform we have to wear. Well, you _could_ still see one. But you'd have to know where to look and what you were looking for. Most people don't.

I think I'll answer E. After all, it's almost the same as lifting the piercing ban.

Oh, and there's an exception for earrings. Tasteful earrings, as in nothing large, dangly, or distracting. Most teachers have agreed upon the rule of thumb. As in, if it's bigger than a thumb, you have to take it out.

_What type of dog would you be?_

_A. Pit Bull_

_B. Cocker Spaniel_

_C. Poodle_

_D. German Shepherd_

_E. Beagle_

D. Because the German Shepherd is an awesome dog. Loyal, large, and smart. Okay, so maybe that's the dog I wanted. I bit my lip. Sadly, I was probably most like a beagle. But hell if I would ever put that down.

Maybe Sloth likes beagles.

No. Not going there. The answer is D.

_A major bonus in a date is:_

_A. They have a car_

_B. They have money_

_C. They have a twin_

_D. They have a pool_

_E. They go home early_

Huh?

What's up with E? Why would you want a date to end early? So you could go out with the girlfriend that _doesn't_ have to be home early?

Whatever.

I'm not one for twins.

Money's not really an issue.

I have a pool.

But not a car.

I shop Abercrombie and Fitch for jeans.

I study too much.

Wait, no. I chill at home. With textbooks. And Winry. Sometimes Russell. Often Al. Fletcher's there a lot. Ling will make an appearance or two.

I like camping.

I don't do rap. My favorite music is indie rock.

My mom shops at places far more expensive than Hot Topic, Macys, or Wal-mart, and she's the one who buys my clothes. Most of the time. Winry generally helps out it. I swear, it's her dream to dress me up like a Dolce & Gabbana model.

Me, well, I just hope that her break-ups never coincide with a Dolce & Gabbana sale. It's the only way to prevent a tragedy like that of Narcissus from happening to me. Seriously, plaid gets me every time.

I like dogs.

I'm a one-on-one type of guy.

There are no great first dates.

Personality is the big thing. But there has to be some sort of chemistry. Otherwise it'd be boring. And lame.

I don't sing unless Winry's standing over me with a wrench in hand.

I don't like football.

I hate the mall.

Fire.

Cardinal.

Snow shoveling.

Skiing.

I own at soccer.

I hate breakfast.

Sleep.

And as much as I hate to admit it, I love to be taken care of when I get sick.

Perfect. First three pages were done!

Now for the next, I flipped through the pages, five.

Fuck.

The next section was labeled In A Girlfriend/boyfriend. I grimaced. It's bound to be filled with really stupid questions. As if that wasn't what the whole test has been filled with. If it wasn't for the fact that I touch nothing related to Valentines Day in Student Government, I could've stopped this. Then again, I think Winry suggested it, so maybe not.

_What's the best trait a girlfriend/boyfriend can have:_

_A. Personality_

_B. Looks_

_C. Intelligence_

_D. Gets along with your friends_

Why is there no E. All of the above? I don't want to date some hag, but if she's a hot bitch that's almost as bad. And what if she's stupid? I hate stupid people. I could never be with a dumb girl. Ever.

But if she hated my friends. God. That would suck. Especially if she and Winry fought. Oh man, that could be awful. Really awful. And if she hates Al or makes fun of Fletcher. Or is conservative. Russell would… I don't even want to think about that.

I guess looks wouldn't matter too much. I mean, if I was super into them, it wouldn't matter. I suppose she wouldn't _have_ to be a genius either. It'd be nice, but not strictly necessary. Personality—well, if she got along with my friends, she'd have to have some personality.

The image of Lyra popped into my head. She was my ticket to the Prom sophomore year. We'd gone on a few dates before and after that. But it ended rather quickly. Sure she was smart, beautiful, and had a great personality. Only problem was she just _hated _Winry and Russell and Ling and Rose and Sloth. She was also against gays, Jews, liberals, rainforests, whales, and abortion.

Yeah, and my mom kind of hated her too.

Even Al didn't like Lyra.

We broke up rather quickly.

Definitely D.

_Your girl/guy wants to see this movie, it's a chick flick/action movie. It's also the last opportunity to see the latest action movie/chick flick. You:_

_A. suffer through the chick flick/action movie_

_B. complain, but go with her/him_

_C. take her/him to the action movie/chick flick, you'll go to the chick flick/action movie later_

_D. ditch her/him and see the action flick/chick flick, she/he has that posse of girls/guys for a reason_

_E. break up with her/him._

What idiot is going to pick E? I wondered. The male version of Lyra? I shuddered. I don't ever want to meet _that_.

I'm such a sop, but A.

She'd hate the action movie and then I'd owe her.

The posse of girls is there so that when the relationship ends, I get TPed by not one, but five girls who will never date me again.

Complaining is just stupid if you're going. I mean, might as well make her feel a little bit guilty.

_Your boyfriend/girlfriend has an awful day. You:_

_A. Treat them to a romantic dinner out_

_B. Show up with a movie or a carton of ice cream_

_C. Give them space_

_D. Tell them about how much yours sucked_

_E. Remind them that children in certain third world countries are suffering more._

E? Seriously what the fuck? Is that like the douche bag choice? That's like asking for a break up or a slap in the face.

Space is risky. Very risky.

D is self-centered. I'm not _that_ much of a bastard.

And judging from how ice cream and a movie helps with Winry, I'd have to go with C. What can I say? I'm a fast learner. I have to be, I survive around Winry.

_Would you prefer your girlfriend/boyfriend to be:_

_A. Liberal_

_B. Conservative_

_C. Moderate_

_D. Don't care_

After that shit with Lyra, I'm going for Moderate.

I glanced at the clock. Only twenty minutes had passed. Russell flipped his packet over and smirked at me. I glared at him. If he wanted to pass his college calculus class he'd pull out his book. Russell grinned and started doodling something on a scrap of paper.

I looked away. I'd find out what it was next period, in AP History.

I stared straight ahead and twirled my pencil. It wasn't my fault Envy Angeloff, queerest of the queer, was right in front of me. He wasn't looking at me. No, he was doing his little quiz thing like it was actually important, College Board's version of Valentine fun. He really did look intent. Like he actually thought he'd end up with someone.

_He'd look good in plaid._

What.

The.

FUCK!

Where had that thought come from?

I tried to clear my mind of that image, but Envy Angeloff wearing a plaid tie and not much else was lodged in my brain. Desperately, I tried to think of anything to clear my head. Anything.

Sloth poked me in the back again.

"Done yet?" she asked. I shook my head and turned back to the stupid quiz.

I am not gay. I wasn't gay then and I'm not gay now. I just didn't like the standard type of girl. The girls I was attracted to tended to be the less girly ones. I mean, they _looked_ like girls and all, they just didn't act like girls. The weak, fluttery damsel in distress type didn't really appeal to me.

Sloth. Lyra. Winry. All of them are fierce, independent, and can hold their own. Granted, even they can have their girl moments. Winry can be pretty needy at times (after break ups or Valentines Day). Sloth has the subtle sort of presence that whispers seductress. Like Liz Taylor in Cat On A Hot Tin Roof, she's gorgeous and epic and sensual.

Lyra.

Lyra was probably the sexiest. She had a strong, sexy, in control vibe. Very confident. Quite horny. Didn't really want to talk and when we did it was generally me telling her off about something. And yet, I dated her for a month. Despite better judgment, the opinions of pretty much everyone, and my principles. She was the least _girly_ out of all them though. I mention, she looked like a girl and all, but from the way she acted, well, it was pretty masculine.

Or at least cutthroat.

She played mind games though.

Pretty controlling too.

Manipulative as well.

So basically, I like the strong, vaguely feminine types, along with the butch girls, and the girls who look like guys. So, it's no wonder I'd have the stray thought about a guy, especially an androgynous guy. With long hair. Who I thought was a girl for a couple months or something like that.

But I'm not gay.

Sure, there's the occasional guy I feel "interested" in. But it's more of a curiosity thing. Like you meet a person, possibly of the same sex, and then you want to find out more about them 'cause they're _interesting_. Nothing _sexual_ about it. Just like you'd want to know how they think or what they're like. That's why I'm friends with Ling. We met freshman year in the office. He was there for his lip ring and I was in for my necklace. He liked my necklace. I told him his piercing was cool. And we hit it off.

He kept messing with his ring through the entire conversation and I couldn't take my eyes off it. _Not because I found it sexy or anything­_—because I didn't. No, I just thought it was fascinating and dangerous and oddly alluring. I started asking him questions about it and he made some crack about how at least I was honest and wouldn't lose track of the conversation whenever he did _that thing_ with it.

Except I totally did.

He's one of the few people who know where my second piercing is. My dad, Ling, and a slue of dental assistants were the only ones who knew about it. Mom didn't even find out until way later.

But yeah, Ling and I are just friends.

Regardless of what happened at that club. It was the fastest way I could think of to get that harpy off of me. Well that and leaving. Or hiding in the men's room. But I'm not a coward. And nothing pisses Lyra off more than gay guys, especially when one of them is her ex.

The last page of the match up was questions about hobbies and stuff. Easy shit.

And finally, I was done.

Wow. Like that didn't take forever.

I turned my paper over and looked up.

Big mistake.

I guess he'd been staring at Ling, who was doing that ridiculously sexy—stupid maneuver with his ring. He _knew _what effect that had on Envy yet he persisted. So Envy's eyes (who the hell has eyes _that_ dark blue, practically purple) were unfocused and his expression was pretty glazed. He looked like I do when I get high. And then I had Jack's Mannequin's song Dark Blue playing in my head. It was my favorite song and everything, so I guess I might have been grinning or smiling or looking not-unhappy.

Regardless, Envy must've _felt_ me staring at him because he turned and just glared at me. I didn't even do anything that time. I swished my tongue around. Too bad he's never seen _my_ peircings. He'd never be able to _talk_ to me again, he'd be so painfully aware of them. As it is, he's barely able to get two words out to Ling before he just zones out. Just imagine what he'd be like if he was imagining two hidden peircings.

Inarticulate. Utterly incapable of thought or speech.

And if I did get that stud or ring, or even both.

Well, poor Envy might just pass out, what with all his blood rushing away from his head. It's a tempting image. Very tempting. But Mom would kill me or rip them out herself. Eww. That would hurt. And leave unsightly scars. I'll wait till college.

Envy flipped his paper over and continued glaring at me. I glared back. What was his problem? Okay, aside from the time I thought he was a girl and asked him out on the date, which resulted in gay rumors about the both of us. Envy never did recover from the rumors, they just kind of clung to them. Me, well, that's when I started dating Rose.

I feel kind of bad about that whole thing. I mean, yelling "FUCK! You're a GUY?!?" was not the best response. Sure, he'd just asked me if I were gay or something, but seriously, not my best move.

I think there was a moment where I seriously regretted saying that and was about to apologize when he punched me. I just stood there, looking kind of stunned. I didn't expect that to happen. Well, okay I did. Just in my head, the punching thing was more of a slapping and it happened right after I asked him out. Because I was hella nervous about asking Envy out. First time and all.

Still, he didn't have to run off like that.

The worst thing was, I really liked him—_as a girl_. It would've been cool to be friends with him, but after that Envy decided that he hated me and the whole thing was some huge prank. My late-night inarticulate phone calls didn't help. In fact, they all kind of turned into shouting matches and groundings.

"Elric, Angeloff, stop trying to off each other with looks," Rix said suddenly. "It's not going to work."

Envy flushed angrily. I shrugged and pulled out Angels and Demons and tried not to think about what a great girl Envy would make.

-end chapter two-


	3. Chapter 3

This Authors Note is written by Potions For Foxes.

It's awesome.

I loooooove Roy. Do not complain about the adoption thing. It has been approved by me and I am adopted. The guitar part is awesome. Roy, well, let's just say that we have possibly stumbled on a completely original characterization of high school Roy. No offense to Mormons. This chapter is pretty much hilarious, I couldn't stop giggling. Seriously, it's awesome. The foreshadowing is epic (so if you don't find some parts as funny as I do, it's because I know something you don't).

Here is the Angeloff Family Tree (because it's necessary)

Dante = Russian Dude

Crackwhore = Pride = Katyusha Lust Greed = X

Envy Sloth Selim Wrath

Therefore, Envy is not related to Russian Wife. Envy's half-siblings are Sloth and Selim. Wrath and Envy are half cousins. Lust is Selim, Sloth, Wrath, and Envy's aunt. And nobody really knows how Greed got Wrath. Pride didn't actually marry Crackwhore, but I couldn't think of a better symbol to represent sexual relations.

H t t p : / / w w w . e p l a n s . c o m / n e w_ a m e r i c a n _ h o u s e - p l a n s / H W E P L 0 1 4 5 2 . h w x # f l o o r p l a n (this is the house, it's awesome).

H t t p : / / w w w. y o u t u b e . c o m / w a t c h ? v = 7 G C l h r v t T z w

(and if is better at detecting links that I thought, look up "kierstenmh Girl Beatles cover" on youtube. This girl is Winry. I kid you not. Winry. She has the hair.)

This Chapter is written by Indigo Oceans.

Stupid Cupid

_(quit hitting on me)_

Chapter Three

"Cake or death?" Wrath asked, bouncing hyperactively. He was single-handedly blocking the gigantic doorway. "Cake or death? Cake or death?"

I groaned. Normally I managed to get out of the car and into my room before Wrath finished exchanging greetings (hugs, kisses, God knows what else - STDs?) with his favorite cousin, Sloth. But today we had gone to the grocery store after school and Sloth had demanded that I 'play the gentleman' and take all the bags. I was currently balancing my backpack, Roy's guitar case, a math textbook, and three plastic sacks of groceries. They were getting heavier by the minute.

"Cake or death?" Wrath asked again. "C'mon, Envy, cake or death?"

"Can I just go?" I said impatiently, taking a step forward.

Wrath's arms shot out, blocking the way on either side of him and letting me know that in order to pass, I would either have to play along or kick him in the stomach and sneak by while he was doubled over. Since Wrath had an unnaturally fast recovery rate and I was burdened by about fifty extra pounds, the second option was a no. "You have to answer. Cake or death?"

In addition to being a certifiable genius, master hacker, and my (half?) cousin, Wrath is also the most fucking obnoxious brat on the face of this earth.

Roy's guitar was beginning to slip. I hoisted it higher, unbalancing the textbook. "Dammit!" I practically yelled, shifting wildly in order to regain my balance. "Fuckin' cake already, now let me pass!"

Wrath's grin is earsplitting. So is his high-pitched cackle. "Sorry! We're plum out of cake!"

Someone needs to keep this kid away from Youtube. No, scratch that. Someone needs to chain him up in a dark closet and then convert all of his computers into bombs with the handy application of some barium nitrate and sulfur and charcoal, homemade gunpowder. I learned that from Fight Club. But since murder, especially murder of a minor, is still illegal, I had to settle with letting out another stream of cussing. When I finished, he was still standing there.

"I said, 'We're plum out of cake'," he repeated, his violet-purple eyes gleaming with some kind of obscene, sadistic pleasure. "Death is the only option."

My arms felt like they were about to be ripped out of my sockets. I sucked in a deep breath, and another one, and heard the plastic crinkle because my hands were shaking under the strain. "Then kill me!" I yelled. "Just let me into the fucking house, first!"

Smirking in an unsurprisingly suspicious manner, Wrath stepped aside. He even held the door open for me as I hoisted my stuff again and managed to shuffle through the door. ...In retrospect, I should have seen it coming.

Five steps down the entryway with the elevator (and blissful relief) in sight, I heard the patter of footsteps behind me. Before I could even look around to see what was going on, I was hit in the back by a miniature tank. At least, that's what it felt like.

Losing my balance, I staggered a few steps forward, managing to drop all but my math book as I fell flat on my face, Wrath kneeling on my back and crowing triumphantly. I had used my hands to break my fall slightly and my palms smarted and stung. The wind all but knocked out of me, I gasped for breath. "What... the fuck... Wrath?"

The corners of my textbook were digging painfully into my chest, while the contents of the grocery bags were strewn across the floor. Roy's guitar case had landed face down and I prayed to God it wasn't broken. "Wrath, you fucking little..."

As soon as I regained my breath, I twisted around, throwing him off my back. His eyes widened at the sight of my face, which was probably contorted in rage, and he scrambled up, nearly tripping as he fled through the dining room and into the kitchen. I lurched after him. He was not getting away that easily.

"Wrath, you little son of a bitch! You little bastard! Get your fucking skinny ass back here so I can kill you and rip out your fucking spleen, you little shi-" I skidded into the kitchen to see Wrath cowering behind Russian Wife. "Oh, shit."

"Envy," she said disapprovingly in her heavily accented voice. "Let your cousin alone. He is just trying to play with you." Wrath, peeking out from behind her large hips, stuck out his tongue.

I bit my lip - Wrath was so paying for this later - and turned on my heel to return to the hall.

Normally, I wouldn't run from a fight like that. But Russian wife is big, huge. I swear she must have been some kind of bodybuilder before she met and married dearest Daddy - with one sweep of her hand she could probably send me flying across the room. Hell, she could probably even send Roy flying, and no one does that. Her name is Yekaterina, pronounced Yeh-kah-tye-REE-nah, which, if you say it fast enough, sounds like someone ralphing up a big bowl of borscht. No wonder she likes Wrath calling her Auntie Katyusha.

I'm glad she's Sloth's mom, not mine. And I'm glad Pride made her keep to the tradition of naming us after the seven deadly sins, instead of calling me something like Dimitri or Yuri or something equally nauseating. Ew.

When I got back to the foyer, Sloth was already there, shaking her head and picking up the groceries. "This wouldn't have happened if you could get along with Wrath," she told me.

"No," I said, "this wouldn't have happened if you hadn't made me carry in all this shit. Or if you had kept the little shit distracted for another two minutes."

"You know what they say about lazy men's loads," she said, ignoring me. It's funny - Sloth and I get along like the best of friends, except when it comes to Wrath. I can't stand him. She, on the other hand, seems to adore him. Maybe because Wrath's dad, Greed, doesn't constantly harass her. Go figure.

"He made me drop Roy's guitar," I told her, turning towards the case with a mild feeling of panic. Roy's bright red Stratocaster (vintage, USA-made) is his most precious possession. He treats it like his girlfriend. His child. And if I broke it—shit. "Sloth, he made me drop Roy's fucking guitar!"

Nearly panicking, I dropped to my knees and unzipped the flimsy cloth case. Sloth, interested, peered over my shoulder as I took out the instrument. As I examined it, I let out a sigh of relief. Luckily, none of the strings had snapped and the pegs were all in place. It hadn't been chipped, there were no cracks that I could see, and all the little knobs for volume and tone and bass seemed in order. Even the whammy bar was intact. I gave Roy so much shit for that when he told me what it was called.

Sloth looked at me and raised an eyebrow. "Seems fine," she said.

"Yeah," I replied. "It had better be fine, because I bet this shit costs like a thousand bucks." I was making up the number, of course, but I knew that USA-made Stratocasters were really rare now that production had been outsourced to China and Mexico and places like that, and they were a good type of guitar in general. "If Roy needs to fix anything, Wrath is paying."

"Of course," Sloth replied smoothly. She knew as well as I did that Wrath would just hack into Daddy-Pride's savings account to get the money, but we both pretended that he was just like any other normal child and would have to earn the money himself. As if a creepy computer genius ever has to earn anything.

I grabbed the guitar, my backpack, and my math book and stood. "I'm going to my room. Call me when Pride gets here, okay? Because he and Katyusha are going out and Roy wants to come over to practice." I never refer to them as 'Daddy-Pride' and 'Russian Wife' to members of my family; they tend to get a little offended. Grandma Dante thinks it's hilarious, though, of course.

"Of course," Sloth repeated, giving me a conspiratorial smile. "He's going to think that Roy is your secret boyfriend."

"He's thought that for two years already; another day won't hurt him," I replied wearily, heading directly to the elevator (and therefore, neatly avoiding both Wrath and Russian Wife).

Daddy-Pride and I have always had a rather strange relationship. Of course, he's proud of me (he has to be) because of the simple fact that I am a) male and b) his son, therefore possessing half of his manly Russian genes. On the other hand, he remains perpetually disappointed because I am a) feminine and b) his illegitimate son, who was conceived around the time that Russian Wife was preggers with Sloth. I say this because I'm only four months younger than my half-sister, which is marital infidelity to the max as far as I'm concerned. Going off to shag some crackwhore when his wife is too pregnant for sex; way to go, dad.

It's not like I'm bitter about any of this, really - I mean, of course I wasn't born when it happened, duh, and Pride has taken me in and (almost) managed to treat me like a real member of the family. I mean, I'm a bit more marginalized than cousin Wrath, I guess, but that's probably because Wrath doesn't have a thing for nice nail polish or Herbal Essences shampoo or girl pants or jewelry. At least my sparkly shirt phase was short lived. And no matter what kinds of looks he gives me, I'm better in a house with Daddy-Pride than in a cardboard box with Momma-Crackwhore.

Really, though, if she hadn't thrown a bitch-fit when she found out she was pregnant with Pride's child, that's where I would be right now. Or I'd be dead. But I don't like to think about depressing possibilities like that.

My room is in the basement, which is totally fine by me except for the fact that I have to pass the door to Wrath's 'playroom' to get through to it. It's only out of habit and maybe a desire for some semblance of normality that we call it a playroom; it's really made up of five flat screen plasma computer monitors all connected by wires to form some sort of supercomputer. And then there's the multiple keyboards, universal computer remote, and Wrath's customized executive chair.

Big computers scare me, so that office scares the hell out of me. And then there's Wrath, of course. Oh! Picture that show, Dexter's Laboratory, or something. That's like a gigantic version of Wrath's playroom, literally. Yeah.

...Most of the time, I lock the door to my room. I'm lucky that Daddy-Pride and Russian Wife don't enter it very often - I think, to them, it gives off a kind of 'den of iniquity' vibe, though really the only things I have on the walls are some random band posters from Roy and a poster of the Joker from The Dark Knight, because Heath Ledger was fucking sexy in that movie. Even when Roy said so - when we exited the theater, dazed with amazement, he told me, "I would turn gay for the Joker". Which alternately disturbed me and amused me greatly... and gave me the idea for my Halloween costume.

Anyway, along with the half-hearted attempts at decoration, my room contains a good-sized dresser, a full-length mirror, a small closet, a desk, a night table, my bed, my laptop, and a lava lamp. That was Sloth's 'gag' birthday gift for me a few years ago - her real one was a bunch of John Connolly thrillers, which I like because of the creepiness and the gore and the two gay hit men.

Oh, and even though it's in the basement, there was a nice window that was knocked into the wall across from my bed. Since our house is built on a hill, this floor isn't so much a basement as it is a lower floor. In fact, I have another nice set of doors that lead to the terrace and would be a great way to sneak out at nights - except for the fact that Pride keeps the doors filmed (overprotective much?) and has motion sensitive lights placed all around the house.

I dumped my backpack and book by the door and placed Roy's guitar on the bed before flopping down next to it, staring at the ceiling. No matter how much I tried to deny it, it was nice to be home again, especially after a ridiculously long week. I always hate third quarter - the teachers seem to realize Oh, not much homework time left! and dump us with every assignment they've been forgetting to give us for the past four months. Which is stupid, and stressful, but do they care? Not at all.

"En, Dad's home," Sloth said through the intercom system at the same time I heard Daddy-Pride clearing his throat. "Good afternoon, Envy!" he said, his voice deep and rumbling low in his chest. I hope mine never sounds like that. "How was school?"

I scooted a little closer to the head of my bed and pressed the white button there, speaking loudly so the speaker could catch my voice. "Fine," I said. "Just wonderful. Aren't you and Katyusha going somewhere? This morning you told me you had a date."

"Yes..." Daddy-Pride replied slowly. "You sound eager to see us gone."

Oh, I am, I mouthed at the ceiling. "No, well, when are you leaving?"

"We'll be out of the house in five minutes; why?"

"No big deal. Roy's coming over." I grinned and listened for his response.

There was a pause, as though on the other end of the line, Daddy-Pride was conversing with Russian Wife, Katyusha. "Why do you want him over today?" he asked finally. "Wasn't he here just a few days ago?"

I raised an eyebrow. So he did notice Roy had been over. I guess that's what happens when your dad is the CEO of some giant security conglomerate. Security cameras trained on the front and back door, the veranda in the back, and the garages, and an intercom system connecting all the rooms of the house. "Yeah, he was, and he's my friend. Why can't he come over more than once a week? Or once a month?" If Daddy-Pride was stricter, that's probably the limit he'd place on Roy's visits to my house.

"...Fine," Daddy-Pride said finally. "Just make sure -"

"I'll keep my door open," I told him, cutting him off. "And I'll keep the intercom system on so Sloth can get in touch with me anytime, if that makes you feel any better. Happy?" Honestly, he was treating me like a girl that tries to have a guy over whenever her parents aren't looking. ...Not that that's very far from the truth, but Roy wouldn't kiss me in a million years.

If he did, I'd have to slap him, anyway.

"Fine," Daddy-Pride said again.

I stuck my tongue out at the speaker. "Thanks bunches, Daddy," I said, not bothering to hide my sarcasm. If he was going to be such a prude, I could be a stereotypical bratty teenager. It was what I was best at, after all - being gay and making my parents' lives hell. Or something like that.

Flipping over on my bed, I managed to reach my backpack and get out my cell phone. I had Roy's number as 7 on speed dial. ...Shut up, if you called someone as often as I called Roy, you would put them on speed dial too.

He answered on the third ring. "Envy."

"Daddy-Pride says you can come over," I said sweetly, turning over again and staring out the terrace doors at the row of trees that lined our backyard. "And Wrath nearly popped your Cherry, if you know what I mean."

"It's Sherri," Roy said, sounding as annoyed, as if we were having this conversation for the first time. "And she had better be unharmed."

I laughed. "Don't worry, she's perfectly fine. In fact, we're having some alone time together on my bed." Hey, if Roy was going to name his guitar like a blonde, big-breasted slut, I would treat it that way. Only not, you know, literally. Really, though, I've never understood why people feel the need to name inanimate objects as if they're people. I mean, they can't talk back, they can't do anything themselves. Confession time: I tried naming Ling's piercing late sophomore year, about the time when Roy got his car and named it Sodapop. (Ooh, a lame Outsiders reference - Sodapop and Ponyboy? Yeah? No.) The name lasted about two days before I decided it made me sound like way too much of a stalker.

"Fuck off," Roy told me through his laughter. That's one thing I'm always amazed at—how he's put up with my obnoxious, snarky sense of humor for such a long time. Maybe it's because I'm one of the few that can put up with him, too. "I'm on my way."

"Okay," I said, then paused. "Hey, will you stop somewhere on your way and buy chocolate for me? Please?"

"What the fu-" he began, making a noise somewhere between a groan and a sigh.

"Come ooon," I whined. "There's a Target five fucking blocks away from my house. Come on. It'll be the first thing I've had to eat all day. I'll pay you back. Come on." A pause. "...Please?"

There was another staticky sigh from Roy's end of the line. "Fine," he said heavily. "I'll get you the damn chocolate. Hershey's?"

"Ghirardelli," I told him firmly. "Hershey's chocolate is cheap shit. ...And get the squares with raspberry filling, okay? Come on."

"...Fine," he sighed, and then hung up. I smiled at the ceiling. It's nice, really nice, to have friends, though sometimes (especially later in the week), I would doubt whether Roy was actually my friend. It's like... I dunno. It's always nice to have someone to hang out and laugh with and cling to and—gah. I'm getting all mushy. I need to break out my fucking horror movies again.

Anyway. When Roy hung up, I turned off my cell phone and pressed the code for Sloth's room into the intercom panel above my bed. The communications system Pride had his company install is great - I can have totally private conversations with whoever I want at the press of a button. Or rather, the entry of a three-digit sequence, in Sloth's case, 149. Of course, if you forget the code and press the green button first, you'll be broadcasting to the whole house. Like that one time at three in the morning when I woke up to the sound of Daddy-Pride and Russian wife having sex. Loud, moany, grunting, disgusting sex. I don't know if Pride even ever realized what a mistake he had made by putting the intercom system at the head of their bed. All four of us - me, Sloth, Wrath, and Selim, who was on vacation from his boarding school back then - were too traumatized in the morning to even talk to them.

In fact, I'm not sure if Selim ever really recovered, but that's neither here nor there.

"Sloth?" I called into the intercom. It would be broadcasting into her room on the second floor. "Heeey, Sloth?"

No answer. I frowned. After school, Sloth can usually be found scribbling into a series of notebooks she keeps (stories, maybe?) while sitting at her desk, finishing homework, or reading on her bed. In her room. "Sloth?" I called again. "You there?"

Once again, no answer. Maybe she was in the kitchen. But it would take forever to track her down if I checked room by room, so I decided to screw it all and press the broadcast button. "Sloth, wherever the fuck you are, I wanted to ask you a question."

"I'm here, Envy," she answered almost immediately. I peered at the code in the small display screen. 298. Made no sense to me. But being the paranoid old fart he is, Daddy-Pride laminated a copy of the intercom codes and stuck one up next to the panels in every room. I hadn't got around to ripping mine off yet, and it had proved pretty handy so far (though I would never admit that to Pride).

It turned out 298 was the number for Wrath's creepy playroom. "Why the fuck are you in the machine room?" I asked Sloth, frowning at the white speaker box. Her hatred for computers runs even deeper than mine, and no matter how much she loves her darling cousin Wrath, she doesn't go in there unless she has a pretty damn good excuse.

"Just hanging out," she replied innocently. "What was it you wanted to ask?"

"Like hell you're just hanging out," I muttered before speaking into the intercom. "Uh... did Pride leave us takeout money? It's Monday, he usually does..."

"I don't know," she said in that know-it-all tone of voice she gets when she wants me to shut the hell up and leave her alone. "Why don't you go check? Get out of your room for once."

"Whatever. Roy's coming over later," I told her, rolling off my bed and standing up. I'll admit now that I felt a little hurt she would be hanging out with Wrath in the creepy playroom like they were old computer chums or something. As if she knows Java or whatever the fuck you call the computer programming languages. She can type fast, sure, and check her email, and, oh, publish her fanfiction and shit, but that's about all. And I know I mentioned she avoided Wrath's room like the plague.

I glared at the intercom before grabbing Cherry - I mean Sherri, Roy's darling Stratocaster - and heading to the foyer to see if there was some money left by the door.

Turns out it was a good thing I got the fucking guitar, because five minutes after I dragged myself up the stairs, Roy was at the front door, ringing the doorbell, bag of Ghirardelli chocolates in hand. I swear, sometimes he's an absolute bastard but, most of the time, Roy is my fucking savior. I pounced on him to get the chocolate.

"Careful with Sherri!" Roy said, reaching over to grab the guitar out of my hands. I traded her—it for the bag of chocolates and skipped up to the loft. Yes, skipped. Shut up—I know what you're saying and I hope you know that gay means happy, too.

When Roy comes over to practice guitar, we sit in the loft. Daddy-Pride made it into a sort of kids' room, because Wrath and Sloth and Selim have their rooms on this floor. My room used to be up here too, but I jumped at the chance to move to the basement when Selim outgrew his nursery on the third floor, the floor that Russian wife and Daddy-Pride have pretty much reserved for themselves. Anyway, the loft has got a bunch of comfy leather couches, a TV with a Playstation and a Wii and an Xbox, a coffee table, a mini fridge for snacks, and a vacuum, so we can clean up our own messes. Which is kind of a pain, yeah, but the rest of the shit makes up for it.

Also in the loft, there's a closet where we shove all the old toys and games. When Sloth gave up her (abortive) attempt at learning bass guitar, we put the amp and a few stands in there too. That's where Roy headed when he finished climbing up the stairs, grumbling the whole time about how we have our very own elevator but he never gets to use it.

"Oh, shut up, Roy, at least you're here where you can play the damn guitar," I told him gleefully, flopping onto one of the comfy leather couches. He dragged the amp across the room and plugged it in, unzipping his guitar case and running his hands lovingly over his Cherry, 'scuse me, Sherri, before plugging her in to the amp.

I dove into the bag of chocolates—a package of raspberry chocolate squares, just what the doctor ordered. Roy sat down and stretched out his legs on the floor, leaning against the couch to support his back as he played a few chords, adjusting the amp to the volume he wanted.

"Play a song for me while I eat my chocolate, okay?" I demanded, squirming around until I was comfortable. I ended up lying on my stomach with my ankles leaning up against the armrest, my arms crossed out in front of me and my head barely brushing Roy's. It's nice that he doesn't mind it when I get touchy-feely, which can be often. Especially when I have chocolate.

As I took a dainty bite, Roy began playing a song I recognized as "Blackbird", by the Beatles - not because I listen to them but because he had been working on it for three fucking weeks and the melody was pretty much drilled into my head now.

Roy hummed softly as he played. He only does that when he knows the song really well, so I figured that he would stop playing it and move on in a few days (thank God).

The chocolates he bought me were so delicious - I mean, Ghirardelli chocolates are, by default, amazing, but the dark chocolate squares with raspberry filling are heaven on earth. The dark chocolate is bitter, yeah, but the raspberries are sweet and fruity and make the most amazing contrast. I love them. I can't get enough of them. Except I never eat more than four at a time, or else it's too many calories.

When I had some free time a few weeks ago, I looked up the lyrics to the song. They were really fucking depressing - just like all the other songs Roy plays. Sometimes I wonder why he likes such sad songs. And old songs - his favorite bands are the Beatles and the Mamas and the Papas and Simon and Garfunkel and Jefferson Airplane, to name a few. I don't listen to these bands. I only know them from riding in his car so fucking much and listening to their old albums over and over and, of course, Roy's semi-obsessive monthly speeches. To him, the worst people are the ones who will ask "The who?" when he starts talking about the Who. In other words, people like me - though I don't really hold that against him.

And he made sure to educate me about the Who by like, the third month of our acquaintanceship, before we were even friends. So I guess he can like me better now, or something.

I was kinda glad that Sloth wasn't upstairs when he turned up the amp and the distortion and started with "Girl", also by the Beatles. Also depressing. By this point she would always come out of her room, eyes flaming, telling him to keep it the fuck down. I added the profanity, by the way. Sloth doesn't cuss when she can help it.

Roy seemed to think the same thing, because a minute after he started playing his fingers stilled and he asked, "Why aren't I being yelled at?"

"Sloth's downstairs," I said with my mouth full of chocolate. This piece, the second one, would be my last today, since I was actually planning on eating dinner. "In the playroom," I added, wrinkling my nose. "Don't know why; she hates computers."

"Suspicious," Roy replied, but I could tell he wasn't really listening because he started playing again nearly as soon as he shut his mouth. He jumps at any chance he can get to practice his guitar, because his (adoptive) parents are seriously addicted to silence. Mostly because Momma Mustang gets headaches real easily, and with lots of noise or light or anything, really, they turn into these nasty migraines. I also once brought up the fact that they were Mormons, but Roy said they don't really give a fuck about what he does as long as he's good and they don't get any letters from school.

Not really Mormon behavior, but then, Roy was adopted. And his parents were flowery hippies, so maybe they figure guitar playing and mild rebellion is in his blood. Not doing drugs, though - both of them had a fit when Roy's drug test freshman year turned out positive. I learned this after the fact, of course; that was before we became friends, back when he knew me as 'the homo' and I knew him as 'the hippie stoner'.

I guess if you take out 'stoner', it's still mostly the same.

His eyes were closed and he was leaning back against the couch, playing pretty much automatically. I couldn't resist threading my fingers through his hair, which is soft and thick and nice to touch. As he finished the song, he said, "Get your hands out of my fucking hair, faggot." When he laughed a little, I knew he was joking.

"Whatever," I retorted. "Least I'm not a fag for sixties stoners." Somehow, it was nearly six-thirty and I needed to order food because it didn't seem like Sloth was going to come out of the playroom any time soon. Which was good, because she wouldn't be yelling at Roy to shut up and our reprieve would last a while, but bad because it was weird.

"You might not be a fag for music but you're a fag for everything else," Roy said as I started down the stairs. "Like chocolate. And Edward Elric."

I stopped dead, my back ramrod straight. Edward fucking Elric, back to haunt me, courtesy of Roy. "Excuse me?" I asked him, my voice low and dangerous. Goodbye good mood, I thought. Hello, bitch face. "Do you want to say that to my face?"

Roy scoffed. "No," he said. "I want you to stop being such a damn sensitive bitch whenever I mention him. Or else I'll start to think you actually liked him."

"Well I didn't," I said flatly, not looking at him. Hopefully, if I just stared straight ahead with my back turned, he wouldn't be able to tell whether or not I was blushing. For the record, I wasn't. "So drop it, already. I'm going to order the food."

"Fine, fine," Roy said nonchalantly. "Dropping it. Get me the chow mein and sesame chicken, okay? I'll consider it payback for your rich bitch chocolates."

I couldn't help but smile. "Okay," I told him. "I like those rich bitch chocolates. I'll order extra." And thank God, Roy didn't say anything about Edward fucking Elric for the rest of the night.

Fin.


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Note written by Indigo Oceans:

I really like Envy and Ed's respective houses. Believe it or not, PFF actually found floor plans for them on some builder's website. Which is crazy dedicated (and maybe a little obsessive) - I mean, I had some vague idea of a house in mind for Envy, with a hallway and a kitchen, a computer room for Wrath, and Envy's bedroom. And that's it. I never bother to go into the background of a story that deeply; I mean, houses are houses. But having an actual floorplan has made me incorporate elements of the story that I wouldn't have thought of otherwise, and made me think, "Hey, maybe I should take a leaf out of Potion's book and actually _do work _on my stories."

But you know how it is. I'm pretty much the laziest, most half-assed author on the face of the earth (I think that was a lie), and she can still remain my better half.

With that said, golden retrievers make better running buddies than border collies. Heh.

Chapter written by Potions For Foxes:

**Stupid Cupid**

_(quit hitting on me)_

Chapter Four

I walk home, as usual. Ametris Academy is within walking distance, only one-point-four-two miles according to Winry's speedometer. Even though we're neighbors, Winry insists on biking. Something about not wanting to walk home in her school shoes. Me, well, I wouldn't complain if Winry opted to walk in front of me for a mile and a half in her four-inch heels. Especially considering how short she wears her skirts.

Winry, however, likes her ankles unbroken.

"Winry, you sure you don't want to carry my backpack?" Russell whined, giving her a pleading look.

"No," she said and glared at him. "Carry it yourself."

"But you have the bike."

"So?" she asked. It sounded more like a threat than a question.

"Ed," Russell said, turning to me. I attempt to keep an impassive expression on my face. He's about to suggest something really stupid.

"You have your license, right?"

"Yes," I said, confused.

"Then you could be driving us."

"Mom needs the car to pick up Al," I replied, rolling my eyes. "And I thought you got your license too. Why don't you drive?"

"Huh, well, funny story," Russell said, looking away. "You see Mom's still kind of pissed about the whole parking meter thing. She won't drive her Mustang to work either. Something about it being a little too Elle Woods for her."

"So, what does your dad totaling your mom's car have to do with you not driving?" Winry asked, coasting idly on her bike. It was this ancient three-speed cruiser that bore a marked resemblance to the Wicked Witch of the West's bike. It was blue and instead a dog, Winry had her backpack in the basket.

"Mom drives Dad's work car now. He won't touch her Mustang. So he got the new car," Russell explained.

"Your parents were going to buy you a new car?" Winry asked, glaring at him.

"No," Russell sighed. "Mom was going to get a new one and I'd get her old car. I'd normally hint that I shouldn't suffer because Dad's practically legally blind, but Grandma has been hinting that I could drive _her_ car."

"What's so bad about that?" Winry asked. I rolled my eyes. Russell has yet to realize that Winry is instantly insanely jealous of anyone who stood a chance of getting a car. Her grandmother had stated that the only way Winry was going to get a car was if she could pay for half of it. And since Winry kept getting fired from her various jobs, that wasn't likely to happen anytime soon.

"It's taupe and ugly and a sedan," Russell began.

"He can't drive stick," I added in before Winry can smack Russell.

"Oh," Winry said. "What about your mom's Mustang?"

"Cotton-candy pink," Russell said, with a cringe.

"Oh, I see," Winry said. She looked horrified. I don't think she'd ride to school in a car that color anytime soon. She's such a tomboy. Well, come to think of it, I don't think I'd want to be seen in that car either.

I kicked a rock. The majority of students at Ametris Academy own their own cars. Over half have chauffeurs. Russell's family is wealthy enough for that; however, his parents are self-made lawyers with middle-class, Midwest roots. They don't believe in chauffeurs or spoiled children. Hence Russell is one of the very few Ametris Academy students to search for a job. Most of the places he's applied to are shocked when they see the school he's from. He hasn't heard back from any yet.

Winry is different; her parents, both doctors, died in the Persian Gulf War, under extremely questionable circumstances. I have long suspected that Winry's grandmother, Pinako, regularly reminds the government that they do not want these extremely questionable circumstances to come to light. Hence Pinako receives hush money from the government that pays for Winry's education. Russell disagrees. He believes that Pinako is a spy, who could sell state secrets if the money stops coming.

Ling has a different opinion. He states that the government checks are just the compensation owed to both Winry and Pinako. It's likely that Pinako has gone through all the benefits that the military offers and simply filed for all the ones that could possibly apply.

Me, I liked my version better.

As for me, I'm a scholarship student, technically. In eighth grade I was awarded a merit-based, need-blind, full-ride scholarship to Ametris Academy. My dad, despite his university professorship and Nobel Prize for Science, leapt at the chance to cheat more people out of their money. Sure, my parents could've afforded to send me to Ametris Academy. They just wouldn't be able to do much else.

It was an unspoken rule that our family never applied for need-based aid. You see, in spite of my mom's creative accounting, we appear as the family that does not need any financial aid and could stand to pay a little bit more than our fair share of things. We have two homes. My dad owns a company. Mom holds two jobs and Al owns part of a racetrack.

Of course, financial aid forms don't take into account things like the fact that our second home is a depilated fishing shack on the coast of Maine. Or that my dad's business is something he created with his university drinking buddies as a joke. Hohenheim, Elric & Associates; Modern Art Managers (buyers of valuable art for museums and private collections), did have actual customers. However, I doubted those customers knew that the company was created to prove that the combination of a suit, glasses, and good shoes translated as credibility.

The Psych department created several companies for the study, most were consulting firms and relatively harmless. Hohenheim, Elric & Associates; Modern Art Managers was the only one to survive.

They do most of their shopping drunk.

Certain members of the modern art community must suspect something. However, according to the research, no one is going to speak up, as the resulting doubt would drop the value of certain collections.

Mom does the accounting for the company and tries to keep it from losing money.

Al's racetrack is something he bought on eBay when he was three. We've never been able to sell it or find anything about the other owners. All we know is that it's maintained by a board of seven mysterious men and one woman. The board has advised us not to visit the racetrack and informed us that when Al turns eighteen, he can appoint a member to the board. (It has been suggested that this person be extremely loyal, trustworthy, and immune to most poisons).

We haven't gotten rid of it, yet.

Still, Ametris Academy wasn't beyond our means.

That was until Mom had the brilliant idea to send Al to Ametris Performing Arts and Sciences Academy. Fletcher had just gotten in and Mom figured that Al might turn out to be brilliant at _something_.

He did.

Much to Dad's dismay that something is art.

"I think it's going to rain tomorrow," Winry stated suddenly.

I sighed.

Russell grinned.

This meant that either his mom or mine would be driving him, me, Winry, Al and Fletcher to school. Probably Mrs. Tringham, as my mom hates driving in the rain and generally works from home whenever it's anything but sunny.

It sucked.

Why?

Ametris Performing Arts and Sciences Academy started a half hour earlier than Ametris Academy and it got out earlier. This meant that Al and Fletcher tended to be in the car when Mrs. Tringham picked Winry, Russell and me up.

This was never good.

Al, for all that he's my brother and I love him, is … embarrassing. I mean, all younger siblings are embarrassing, but Al takes it to a whole new level. No one has ever understood how embarrassing he is either. Winry doesn't have siblings, Ling dotes on (and tends to embarrass) his sister, and Russell doesn't understand. Of course, that's because Fletcher is perfectly normal and well behaved.

Al is a completely different story.

Oh sure, he _acts_ innocent and you might think he's cute, but watch out.

He bites.

No, seriously, he does.

He also hugs me.

In public.

Where people can see us.

And while he doesn't carry around baby pictures of me in his wallet like Dad does, Al does worse. He recounts extremely embarrassing childhood moments at the worst possible moments. Between him and Dad, it's surprising that I've even _had_ girlfriends.

That's just the beginning too. Sometimes he'll just go on about his school. His incredibly bizarre little school.

Or he'll start speaking in German.

Sometimes he'll just go off in French.

Worse is when he starts muttering in Yiddish.

Or he'll just stare at people until they back away, slowly.

There's also the fact that despite his short hair, the way he dresses, and his name, people still mistake him for a very boyish _girl_.

I think it's his long lashes.

No one mistakes me for a girl.

Winry states this has something to do with the ever-present tie.

I think it's my broad, muscular shoulders.

Russell mutters about lesbians and people assuming things.

I think he's referring to Winry. Haven't checked but, who else?

I entered the house in full stealth mode. I eased the door shut, keeping a firm grip on the knob. The door thudded gently against the frame. I froze and listen for sounds, movement, any clue of enemy agents. Nothing. I let the knob slowly turn back into its original position. It made a faint click.

I walked into the living room, carefully rolling my feet to avoid making unnecessary vibrations. I walked past the dining room and scoped out the kitchen. Mom was there, baking something. Fortunately, her back was turned and she couldn't give me away. I scanned the room again. No trace of the—

"BIG BROTHER!!"

Something lunged at me, I'm not sure which direction it came from. It grabbed me at the knees and I toppled forward, clawing desperately at the countertop. Mom looked at me, wide-eyed. I think she was as startled as I was. She obviously didn't know Al was in the kitchen.

"BIG BROTHER'S HOME!!"

"Ed, you startled me," Mom said, pulling a tray of cookies out of the oven. "I didn't even hear the front door open. Make some noise, why don't you?"

"ED! Ed! Ed! ED!" Al shouted, bouncing up and down. He had removed himself from my legs. I slumped into a stool.

"Yes," I said, warily.

"You'll never guess what happened at school today," Al said, grinning.

"I have no idea," I said. And I didn't. I honestly haven't a clue what happens at Al's school. And I don't really want to. Most of the teachers there are so loopy even UC Berkeley would throw them out. Brilliant people all of them, just not what you'd call sane or anything.

"GUESS!" Al shouted. Mom gave me a look. I sighed and decided to humor him.

"What?"

"AUDITIONS!" Al shouted, grinning wildly. I winced.

"For what?" I asked, hoping it wasn't going to be another musical about some liberal or environmental cause. Though nothing can be as bad as sitting through a musical performed by small children about saving the rainforest, with Lyra, who is all for developing said forest. In fact, I think the evil developer _might_ have been based on her dad.

"The spring musical," Al said brightly. I suppress a groan. "The costumes are going to be so awesome. They're made out of all sorts of stuff, like plastic bags, newspapers, bottles and stuff."

I raised an eyebrow. This doesn't sound like oceanic stuff to me.

"It's to symbolize the destruction of the oceans by man. And there's also going to be seaweed and kelp and starfishy things and it's going to be really cool," Al said, excitedly. "You're coming, right?"

Mom glared at me.

"Yes, Al," I said. "I will be happy to come."

"It's really cool," Al continued. "Mrs. Armstrong is directing it and Ms. Bell is writing the music and Mr. Gaffner is handling the—"

I grabbed a cookie and ate, listening with half an ear as Al described the entire musical to me. It didn't sound too bad. Yet. They hadn't learned any of the songs or the choreography, as most of it was still being written.

"When is the musical?" Mom asked, running water over one of the baking trays. I grabbed another cookie when she turned around again. Al looked at me with widened eyes. I made a face at him and snatched another one.

"It's on the twenty-second," Al said. Before he opened his mouth to tattle on me about the cookies, I handed him one under the counter. He took it grudgingly. "I didn't want another one," he hissed at me. I shrugged.

"Another one of what?" Mom asked, scrubbing away at the cookie tray.

"Nothing," we said in unison.

"I have to go do homework," I said and grabbed my backpack. It's definitely time to escape before Al decides he really doesn't want that extra cookie. As for homework, I'm swamped. The teachers have apparently decided that this is the week to assign everything. Perhaps it's so they'll have something to do (grade papers) when they're all alone on Valentine's Day.

I have a huge set of calculus problems that I should start on now, even though the due date's Friday. This week we're covering about two chapters and there's no way I can do it all Thursday night. Fortunately, I'm good at math. Unfortunately Russell isn't, so I'll probably spend about three hours working with him _after_ I finish my work.

I should really get paid for it.

Then we're having some horrible sort of practice AP exam in History on Thursday. I sighed as I lugged my stupid heavy backpack up the three flights stairs to my room. I'd just made the move from my old room (on the second story) to my new room this year and I was still getting used to the extra walk.

My excuse for moving was simple: the random thumps, grinding sounds and small explosions that came from Dad's shop (or "lab" as he called it) distracted me from my homework. Of course, Dad had to ruin the peace and silence by building an addition, right over my old bedroom. The builders had just finished the extra room, so I finally got the peace and quiet that having my own story of the house brought.

Did I mention what the additional room was for? No? Well, it became my dad's study. Which, I suppose, is better than it becoming his second lab, but still. Don't you think he would've gotten the hint that I wanted to be left alone?

I stepped into my room. A small warm body weaved around my legs. I carefully set my pack down on the floor and lurched myself, backwards, at the bed. It's the only way to avoid twisted ankles, stepping on things, or worse, tripping over my cat, Sheba. It's also a very effective way to train for the high jump. Sheba gracefully picked her way across my room, glaring at the smelly clothes on the floor. I laughed. She's such a queenly cat.

She sniffed at me, as if to state that she didn't appreciate my laughter. Nonetheless, she curled up on my pillows and purred softly. I know better than to pet her. Sheba doesn't like human contact, unless she initiates it. That's part of the reason she became my cat, not Al's.

Thing is, I'm not really a cat person. I'm more of a dog person, like my mom. She can't stand cats. We both think they're way too fussy and demanding. Dad's more of the cat person. He doesn't _love_ them like Al does; he just sorta respects them and does his own thing. Like a cat. Al, on the other hand, really and truly loves cats. He's always trying to bring home stray kittens and cats. At first we tried to stop him, but then we realized that Al could not keep a cat around.

Sure he can manage kittens, but cats? They run away, get hit by cars, eaten by coyotes, freak out the dogs, go insane, or just disappear never to return (unless they're _really _hungry). You could say that Sheba is the exception. But she's not really Al's cat. She made it crystal clear from the time Izumi gave her to Al that she was not Al's cat. She bit, scratched, and ignored him. Then she followed Mom around for a few hours before Dad came home. However, Sheba must've gotten bored in his office, since she latched on to me (quite literally) when I returned home from Russell's house.

Al didn't speak to me for a week.

Then Izumi took him down to the local Humane Society and let him pick out four kittens. Mom, at that point, was close to never speaking to Izumi again. But when my mom was down at the shelter, having said kittens spayed and/or neutered, she saw the future loves of her life and personal trainers. Three dogs. Two black labs and one Border collie puppy.

She adopted them on the spot.

That was five years ago. Now Trixie (black lab number one), Uno (lab number two), and Sheldon (the collie and my running buddy) are part of our family. The labs mainly stay on the first story. Sheldon will go pretty much everywhere he's not supposed, like my room or the roof. You wouldn't believe the fire department's unwillingness to believe a call about a dog stuck on a roof.

There's a scratch at the door. Sheba hissed and spat.

"Go away, Sheldon," I said, glancing at Sheba. Her ears are still flat and her teeth are showing. Sheldon settled down to wait outside my door with a thump. He whined and his tail batted loudly against my door. I stared wistfully at my pile of AP Chem, calculus, and German homework. Sheldon whined again.

"I'm coming," I shouted out and quickly changed into my running clothes. It's never too early to start getting in shape for track season.

After the run, I barely had time to start my calculus homework before I was called down to dinner. I moaned; with that AP Chem assignment due tomorrow, there wasn't going to be any time to finish the calculus homework before Russell bombarded me with questions.

"ED!" Dad bellowed from the landing. "Dinner's getting cold!"

"I'm coming!" I shouted down to him, disentangling Sheba's claws from my pants. Dinner really will get cold if I don't hurry. Mom always insists upon joining hands (no matter how many times Dad or Al or I rolls our eyes) and saying Grace and at least one Hail Mary. Sometimes two if she feels we weren't attentive enough during the first one.

"Ed," Mom said, as I arrived, slightly out of breath from the three flights of stairs.

"I'm here," I said, sitting in my accustomed spot next to Dad. I joined hands across the table with Al. My dad took my hand. He sighed in a long-suffering manner and lifted his eyes upwards, begging Who Knows What that there would be only one Hail Mary tonight and that it would be in English.

"Bless us, O Lord," Mom started off. The rest of us chimed in obediently. "And Thy gifts, which we are about to receive from Thy bounty. Through Christ our Lord we pray. Amen."

Dad picked up his fork and stared hungrily at the pork roast. Mom cleared her throat. Dad sighed and slowly placed his fork down on the table.

"Hail Mary, Full of Grace," Dad began, sulkily. Mom beamed. Al and I rolled our eyes. She was always trying to get him to lead the prayers like a proper Catholic husband would. "The Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of they womb, Jesus." Dad's tone bordered on sarcastic with a hint of sulky schoolboy. I bit back a smile. Mom was _so_ going to tell the priest on him. "Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us now, and the hour of death. Amen."

"Let's eat," Dad said, digging into his pork roast. Mom smiled sweetly.

"You sure you don't want to repeat the prayer again?" She asked, still smiling. "You said it so nicely."

"No," Dad said quickly. "I'm fine, I really am."

"If you say so," Mom said before daintily cutting her meat.

"So, Al how was your day?" Dad asked, changing the subject before he said something stupid or Mom decided that he'd better do it again, just to make sure. Or if he had it memorized in Latin. Mom, of course, actually knows Latin. She's one of the few Latin majors out there.

That's how she met my dad. He was taking a Latin course because he planned to discover new species (instead he wound up researching weird brain chemicals). She beat him in every test. Intrigued, he asked her out and she invited him to the Latin Club. Still not dissuaded, she invited him to her very girly church group. Still unperturbed (and mocked by his friends), Dad went on to meet Mom's priest, nuns, monks, her parents, and a bishop, before Mom realized he wasn't going away anytime soon.

Moreover, I think she might've realized that she didn't want him to go away anytime soon.

"Ed?" Dad prompted.

"All my teachers assigned massive amounts of homework that's all due on Thursday, because apparently the choir has decided to interrupt classes with singing Valentine Grams and all of my teachers are paranoid about losing time," I said. "It's insane."

"What about the Valentine Match-Up Grams?" Al asked. He smiled at me.

"What?" Mom said.

"How did you find out about those?" I demanded.

"Ed?" Mom asked. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh, just these stupid things we had to fill out in Rix's class," I said quickly. Mom gave me a look. I elaborated. "Just a questionnaire. You fill it out, send if off, and get matched up with someone. It's lame."

"Who put this on?" Mom asked.

"Student Government," I admitted. "Like I said, lame."

"Why didn't you tell us—?"

"Mom, I have nothing to do with anything Student Government does in the month of February. It's much safer this way," I said. "Remember how upset Winry was when the dance failed freshman year? Yeah, she blamed it on me because I helped pick the decorations."

"Did you also pick the date it was held on?" Mom said.

"Yes, what's that got to do with anything?"

"Winry was out of town that weekend, I believe."

"Yeah, well, things happen," I said. "She could never _prove_ it was my fault."

"Since when has Winry ever required proof?" Mom asked. "Her intuition is pretty much spot on with you."

"So anyways," Al said brightly. "Aren't you going to order the Match-Ups for Ed? I think he should get the Super-Deluxe **TM** version, don't you? More money for Student Government and all."

"Al," I said, glaring at him.

"Here are the order forms," Al said, pulling out three heart-covered, pale pink sheets of paper. "Just sign here and write the check. And look, we can even look up his scores online."

"They're not scores!"

"What do you think, Trisha?" Dad asked, pretending to think it over. I glared at him. He's just trying to get back at me for refusing to go with him on his stupid art foray. It's not my fault I'm a moral person and don't want to facilitate Dad's addiction to cheating people out of their money.

"I don't know," she said, placing a manicured finger on her lip. "He _is_ in Student Government, and we should support that."

"We can get the matches emailed to us!" Dad said.

"Hold it, _that_ is an invasion of my privacy," I said, glaring at Al. He just sat there and smiled. "Besides, where did Al get the forms? Last time I checked, he didn't go to my school."

"Russell picked a few extras up for me," Al said.

"A few? Who got the others?"

"Uh, well, you see."

"Al, I'm going to start guessing. I think you gave one to Pinako. Do you want me to tell Winry that you—"

"Ling! I gave one to Ling!" Al admitted quickly. The last thing he wanted was to deal with an irate Winry. You see, she has this thing about her life. It's private. As in, she doesn't like meddlers. Not that this makes much sense, as Winry's pretty much the gossip queen. She tries to know everything. Worse yet, she keeps trying to "unsingle" herself. You would not believe the drama that creates.

"Let's order one, just the mailed version I think," Mom said, smiling angelically. "That way at least Ed will have a chance at intercepting it."

"But," Dad protested and I knew he didn't even want to give me a chance.

"It costs less," Mom pointed out. "Now, Al, isn't your school going to do something like that?"

"No," Al said a little too quickly.

"Funny," Mom said. "I was talking to Mary Tringham and she said that your school was doing something for Valentine's Day."

"Must've been talking about Russell."

"Really," Mom said. "Wait I remember, your school is doing Singing Valentine Grams! Want one, Al?"

"Ed's is too!" He protested.

"We already paid for the match-up," Dad said, as I sneak over to the sink to clear my plate. "We wouldn't want either of you boys to think we weren't treating you equally."

"I'm fine with not being treated equal," Al said. I rinsed my plate off. I wasn't. At least Al would be embarrassed too. No reason he should get off scot-free.

"Edward," Mom started to say.

"I have homework, massive amounts of homework," I said quickly sprinting to the stairs.

I was walking by the second flight. I sighed. I needed to start running again; taking the winter off was not a good idea. But the track event that had winter practice was the cross-country team. And that was Russell's deal. He's the distance runner, not me. I sprint, relays mainly. And do high jump.

Sure, Russell's been trying to convince me to do distance track. He even got me to attend summer running camp with him. But there is no way he's going to get me to do an event that Maes Hughes coaches. Hughes already has me for one hour a day (he teaches Student Government); I see no reason that should change.

Of course, Hughes does play favorites. Or well, more that he just understands distance runners better than sprinters. Essentially, run distance track/cross-country, and you'll never have to explain an absence to him. Unfair, unless you're say, on the team.

I supposed I'm not really one to talk about insane coaches, as the high jump coach is Major Armstrong (who, yes, is from the military and is an actual major). Ms. Hawkeye coaches relays, girls and boys. She's also the one who shoots the gun off. Won't let anyone else use it, not even Hughes (who has tried to steal it).

Winry actually does do track. Hurdles. 100m and the killer 300m. She ran the two-mile with Russell once. He thought it would be funny to tell Winry that real tough girls would ran distance. She went over, talked to the coaches, and entered in the race. Russell was pretty shocked that she even entered. The 3200m is right after the 300m hurdles and Winry had just set a track record for that event.

She went on to beat the pants off Russell and come within seconds of setting the school record (for boys). She smashed the girls' record by minutes. Russell was in shock. Hughes was practically drooling as he tried to recruit Winry to distance.

Izumi scoffed and stated that the girls' record was set in a strong windstorm, therefore, it didn't really count and that the record holder had run faster times at different tracks.

It may be worth noting that the holder of the Ametris Academy Girls 3200m was an Izumi Harnet.

It's really only a matter of time before Hughes succeeds in recruiting me. Hawkeye appears to be in one it too. She keeps hinting that I'd do well in the 800m, which is kind of like a sprint, only not.

I flipped through the calculus homework and glanced at the AP Chem book on my bed. The Chemistry test was on Thursday and I still hadn't completed the reading notes or the chapter problems. Not many people had and those who did barely understood the material anyway. The test was going to be on chapters 10 and 11 and had to do with liquids, solids, phase changes, and properties of solutions.

I'd tried to work on the reading notes in class, but after fifteen minutes of staring at 11.6 and still wondering what vapor-pressure had to do with whether a solution was volatile I gave up. Add the fact, that I wasn't quite sure what the scientific definition of volatile was and I was pretty much screwed.

11.8 dealt with osmosis and osmotic pressure, which I assure you, has little or nothing to do with Osmosis Jones. Semi-permeable membrane allows solvent (H2O) to pass through, blocks large molecules. Easy stuff. Then came the stuff that I knew would show up on the test. When a semi-permeable membrane separates a pure solvent and a solution, the solvent will pass through to the solution side and concentration decreases. Volume of solution increase. Volume of solvent decreases. Example would be cucumber in salt water shrivels because saltwater drives the water out of the cells.

Π = M _R_ T

Large pi is osmotic pressure. M is Molar concentration. Definitely need to review what all the different types of "m" mean. _R_ is the gas constant. God I hope Dr. Marcoh gives us the gas constant for the test. T is temperature in Kelvin.

11.9 is just something about colligative properties and antifreeze and salt on roads in winter. Basically, stuff the lowers the freezing point also raises the boiling point and has actual uses. Fun.

11.10 is the last section. Then I just have twenty-three problems let to either complete or look up in the back of the book. The questions are, quite possibly, due tomorrow or at least we'll go over them in class tomorrow. Fraction distillation apparently relates to oil refineries and how they purify the oil by boiling and condensing it sense different mixtures have different boiling points and all. Somehow, I doubt this will make an appearance on the test. It's too much "human interest" to be worth testing on.

Unless Dr. Marcoh wants to see how many people really read the chapter.

I turned the paged and glared at the array of problems before me.

You know what, fuck this I want sleep. I'll just finish this in the morning or something. Maybe during lunch. Or I'll just copy off of someone at lunch.

Sure I knew this wasn't the best study plan, but I was tired. I wanted sleep. And the bed just looked so tempting.


	5. Chapter 5

This is an awesome chapter. Just wanted to let you know that. It's really awesome. The plot _finally_ gets moving and it picks up a lot of speed. I think I've read it about three or so times and it still gets me. It's that good. I recommend re-reading it and leaving us a very nice review.

It's like those books you read in which the character interaction is so _good_ and there's so much between the lines that you imagine. I dunno. It's like in the play I saw in Ashland, Macbeth, there were so many things that were just hinted at that could be entire side _novels_. It was awesome.

And I _love_ Envy. I mean, Ed's great and all, but Envy, Envy is so complex. He's like the people at my school that I like hearing about but I'm not badass or out there enough to be friends with them. I could be friends with Ed, but Envy, I'd watch Envy. Moreover, I assure you that my chapter, while sharing the English scene, will be completely different. It will not be a repeat.

Enjoy!

~Foxes

P. S. I already have my chapter (the next chapter) done. I hate being told to update faster. It makes me angry. I don't care if you have to read the chapter four times before you come up with something worth saying, do it. Take notes while you read it. I don't care. Just don't leave Indigo a review saying "update faster." You update-demanders are why my favorite Naruto story, Self-Reliance, is on hold, indefinitely. Thanks a lot.

(This is why all my notes are bitchy. Just thinking about "update!" reviews pisses me off)

Other than that, enjoy the amazingly awesome chapter you are about to read!

Chapter written by: Indigo Oceans (the _nice_ one)

**Stupid Cupid**

_(quit hitting on me)_

Chapter Four

Roy was over Monday night so I didn't get much homework done. I spent most of the week procrastinating and making up work I hadn't done before, and so before I knew it, it was Friday the Thirteenth – the day before Valentine's Day. I mean, duh, February Thirteenth is always the day before February fourteenth, but when a day meant for love and romance is next to the unluckiest day of the month, you know nothing good is going to happen. Even before you get plunged into the worst few weeks of your life . . . but I'll save that for later. I'm getting ahead of myself.

Anyway, Friday the Thirteenth (the day, not the movie) dawned gray and overcast, another bad omen. I rolled out of bed at the last minute, ran a brush through my hair, grabbed the nearest uniform pants and shirt that came to hand, and fumbled for my backpack, all with the screeching of the intercom filling my ears. Sloth would eat breakfast at the kitchen table all nice and unhurried, punctuating her spoonfuls of Kashi granola with jabs to the green 'speak' button, sending nothing but a burst of static as she took another bite.

By now I was used to it, though I was also late.

When I finally stumbled upstairs, having had absolutely no time to brush my teeth (instead, I had to settle with grabbing a piece of gum from Wrath's not-so-secret stash in the cupboard), Sloth was lounging indolently against the counter. "Ready?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes," I growled, grabbing my dark blue uniform blazer and looping my tie around my neck. It dangled like a scarf, the ends swinging as I rushed out to the car.

As Sloth clambered into the driver's seat, I sunk into the leather of the passenger seat with a heavy sigh, closing my eyes and tilting my head up towards the ceiling. The engine started to life with a smooth purr and I felt the car backing out of the garage and down the long driveway, a sick feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach. I could already tell today was going to suck, even before Sloth opened her mouth.

"We're getting the results of our match-up grams back today," she said, the corners of her lips quirked up in a small smile.

"Our what?" I began to ask, then remembered the stupid quizzes we had taken on Monday. With all the shit going on during the week, I had nearly forgotten. "Oh, fuck." Then I turned to look at Sloth, who was still sporting that enigmatic smile. "What's the big deal?" She wasn't normally interested in these sorts of things. "Hoping you'll get matched up with Edward fucking Elric?"

Her smile, instead of fading, grew into a smirk, almost. "Something like that," she replied.

I blinked and stared at her for a little while longer, but then shook my head. I figured I would find out later. The rest of our ride passed in silence until she pulled up in the parking lot of Amestris Prep, where she turned off the car and turned to me with another mysterious, annoying smile. "See you in English," she told me.

"Yeah," I replied distractedly, fumbling at my tie to make it look at least a little presentable. I hadn't finished the assignment due today in my first period class, Psychology, and was hoping to snag someone from my class who had finished the reading for U.S. History and was willing to tell me what the chapter had been about. I only understood the bit about Stalin, who wasn't American at all, so it was lucky we spent the whole day getting lectured by Tucker, instead of taking the quiz he had promised us.

By the time AP English rolled around, I was feeling a bit burnt out, though pretty accomplished. I had managed to squeeze by in both of my first two classes without doing any of the homework at all, and this class would most likely be dominated by the return of those stupid 'Match-Up Grams' (because apparently high school students are incapable of deciding for themselves who they're compatible with) and the ensuing chaos. Sometimes I think life would be easier - well, for most people, not necessarily for me - if classes were either all boy or all girl. It might mean a lot of playful shoulder punches and "Hey fag" type greetings, but at least there wouldn't be any annoying high-pitched squealing or hormone overloads or anything like that.

And I would still be able to stare at Ling.

As I took a seat I shot a glance across the room and wondered if we would match as friends. Probably not, but you know how it is - hope springs eternal and all that bullshit.

I was prepared to settle into the mundane AP Literature routine when the door burst open, startling half the class and revealing a hassled looking Ed, who stepped across the threshold just as the bell rang. His hair was unkempt, frazzled-out from his usual braid, and he managed to look tired, confused, and annoyed, all at the same time. I glared on principle as Edward fucking Elric made his way back to his seat - even if he didn't see, it still made me feel better.

As soon as I turned back around, Roy leaned over my desk with a smirk. "Hey, Angel, today's the day we get the -"

"Match-Up Grams back, I know," I said, scoffing a little and wondering why he felt the need to remind me. He and Sloth, who, when I cast a surreptitious glance over my shoulder, was smiling in Ed's direction. "It's not that big of a deal." Regardless of the fact that I was thinking about being matched with Ling only seconds before, I couldn't help adding mentally. "Are you excited?"

He shrugged. "It'll be interesting, at least."

"That's what you say every year."

"Because it's true every year," he replied implacably. I snorted and turned to watch Professor Rix, who was messing with a stack of pink paper on his desk. Suddenly, packets in hand, he whirled around to glare at me. I jumped.

"Angeloff," he barked. "Sounds like angel, close enough to Cupid. You hand these out."

I bristled. He hates me. And yet he loves my last name. Like hell I was going to be the messenger of doom for the eleven girls in the class. I stayed put, giving him my best glare.

"Actually," some blonde chick across the room said, "teachers are supposed to hand them out. Student Government decided." Yeah, thanks, I thought. I had a feeling that I should probably know her name, but it wasn't like that mattered. She was friends with Ling - and with Ed. Funny he has friends, being the asshole that he is.

Rix started talking to Ling and my train of thought immediately derailed. Today Ling's lip ring was bright silver, and it glinted under the fluorescent light of the classroom as he spoke. It was absolutely mesmerizing. And really sexy.

When Rix finally left him alone and turned to Ed, I gave a mental sigh of disappointment. "Well aren't you the little chauvinist," the teacher was saying snarkily. As usual. "What a charming example of misogyny."

"Wow, big words," I muttered, tapping my fingers on the desk with impatience. My two favorite people in the world (I know it's hard to catch, but that was sarcasm), engaged in a verbal sparring match while the rest of us waited and stared at the clock. Joy.

Ed said something, probably some lame excuse, to which Rix raised an eyebrow. "So, you're single, yet still whipped. Nice. Attention ladies, this one," he pointed to Ed, "comes trained. Familiar with commands like sit, down, and heel. Any takers?"

Roy jabbed me with his elbow. "Fuck off," I hissed at him. He can't seem to leave the whole me-and-Edward fucking Elric topic alone. It got especially bad around this time of year. And Christmas. I'm not sure why.

When I had turned back to watch the teacher, Rix had finally started handing out the grams. When he crossed to my side of the room, he dropped the packet on my desk without comment. Probably couldn't find a joke with my last name, I thought with a sneer. Of course he had a word for Roy.

"Mustang, yours feels rather thick." With a heroic effort, I resisted the urge to mutter 'That's what she said'. "Wonder how many girls you've been matched with? All of them, probably."

Roy grinned and chuckled. I shot him a look.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Rix asked with an answering chuckle before tossing the packet on his desk. I shuddered. Rix was being friendly with Roy. Too much snark and tasteless, one-syllable, alliteration for my taste.

Still more than a little disgusted at my mental image of that pairing, I glanced down at my Match-Up Gram (yay!). The front paper had nothing but a few swirls, hearts, and chubby-cheeked cupids holding bows and arrows, as well as some bull about how the results of this Match-Up Gram (tm) don't mean you'll end up going out with the ugly girl/guy you got paired with blah blah blah we wish you the best of luck screw this.

I ripped it open.

Crush Matches! the pink paper announced with a totally uncalled for cheerfulness. Your top match in the crush category is . . .

Oh no. Oh fuck no. Oh fucking hell no.

I remember I was dumbfounded at the results. I blinked a few times, read and reread the name and prayed that what I was reading was some kind of hallucination. It had to be. Even though I had gotten nine hours of sleep the night before. It had to be some kind of joke my brain was playing, some kind of karma from not eating breakfast and chewing the same flavorless piece of gum for over two hours, it couldn't -

Roy snatched the sheet from under my nose, and I reacted instinctively, lunging across in an effort to grab it from his hands and nearly toppling over in my desk. The only reason I didn't fall down completely was my death grip on the shoulder of Roy's blazer - I clawed my way up his arm in an effort to right myself and distract him from reading the results of the match up.

"Mustang, what did you piss off Angeloff for?" Rix asked, probably thinking he was clever.

I believe my most coherent thought was fuck.

The room took on a nightmarish quality as Roy read and reread the crush match, just as I had, his lips forming the name. So it wasn't a dream, I thought dimly. The words seemed to trickle through Roy's thick skull until his dark eyes lit up with realization and he let out a whoop. Screwed. I was so screwed.

"Oh my GAWD!" the blonde chick shrieked from across the room. I should have known her name. "Ling, look at THIS!"

Ling. Ling. He was in the room, and if Roy yelled out the results he would know, and then there would be absolutely no chance for me to even be friends with him because this whole 'Match-Up Gram' (not funny, so not funny) would bring up all the questions about my sexuality again and -

"Envy!" Roy crowed. "I knew you guys were meant to be together!"

The numb, dreamlike feeling disappeared and I leapt to my feet, lunging for a second time at the packet. "Give it back, fucktard!" I snapped. "It's mine!"

He stepped back and held it out of reach. I contemplated vaulting over a desk and tackling him, but I froze when Roy looked across the room, met eyes with Ling, and said, "You'll never guess who's matched with Angel!"

"Don't fucking call me that!" I yelled automatically. My heart felt like it was being squeezed with icy tongues and beaten with a red hot poker. At the same fucking time. This was too much. If I could have crawled in a hole under a rock - hell, if I could have shot myself right there - I would have. It was that bad.

And it only got worse when that blonde chick - Winry, was that it? part of my mind wondered detachedly - shrieked, "ED! YOU'RE MATCHED WITH ENVY?!"

The room fell silent. Frozen. Oh, hell.

Ling was the first to break the silence. He nodded at Winry, his lip ring glinting in the light when he moved. Despite myself, I stared. "That what you were going to say?" he asked Roy.

"Yeah," Roy replied. His voice was oddly loud in the ringing silence. Two seconds later, the whispers began and snapped my paralysis.

"Damn you, son of a bitch," I hissed, finally grabbing his hand and yanking my match up away.

He gave me a considering look, and for a second I could convince myself that he wasn't going to say anything. Then he had to open his big fucking mouth. "ENVY'S MATCHED WITH EDWARD!"

There. It was out. Out of the fucking closet, as it were. Now, distanced by a few months and several other occasions for nearly absolute embarrassment, I can kinda see the funny side of things. But then - I can't even tell you what was going on in my head, it was that messed up - I know I turned bright red, I could feel the blood rising to my face as my eyes started prickling with tears. All I could do was stare at Roy, screaming in my head all the things I couldn't say to him out loud.

Let me attempt to transcribe my mental flailing at that moment:

That fucking bastard and now everyone's going to know and they're going to look at me and they'll know that bastard I can't believe - what the hell why did he - and he's just standing there and why the hell that FUCKING BASTARD how did he do that? To me! How did he do that?

Told you it didn't make any sense. I'm sure my expression was just as bewildered, hurt, betrayed, confused, angry. Especially since I was about to cry. I hate crying.

And just to make things worse, at that moment Rix stood up from his desk and walked over to me and Roy. "What's the commotion?" he asked. I didn't want to look at him - I was afraid of what he'd see. He only came over here because we got quiet and he wanted to stir up some more drama.

I said nothing. Roy, probably figuring he had done enough to make my life hell, sat down quickly.

When I dared a glance at Rix, the corners of his mouth were turned up a little in the meanest smirk I have ever seen. And remember, I'm friends with Roy. "Oh," he said, his eyes glinting cruelly. "Let's see who you got paired off with, Angeloff."

That was it. He hated me.

I snapped.

"Fuck you!" I yelled, bending down to grab my backpack and jamming my match-up packet inside with a violent gesture. "Fuck you, Rix!" I spat at him again as I threw it over my shoulder. "Who do you think I got matched up with?" Stupid asshole, thinking he was better than everyone. Just because he was going to teach at a university, he thought he could do whatever the fuck he wanted. He thought he could fuck with me. "Roy fucking announced it to the whole damn class!"

Before he could open his mouth - before anyone could even breathe - I crossed the room. "I'm leaving," I announced flatly at the door, and when I left I slammed it behind me. My face was still red - probably redder than ever, and the tears were going to come whether I liked them or not. But I would rather die than start crying in front of my whole English class.

So I made my way out into the hall - stumbling, probably, both with the weight of shock and the confusion of tear-filled eyes. I was so glad it was the middle of third period and I wasn't surrounded by a crush of people who would all be staring and muttering to themselves as I passed. It would start the rumors again - not that I had any choice about that, now, did I?

Like a little wounded animal dragging itself back to its den, I headed to the only place I knew I could hide.

Kimbley's bathroom is located on the third floor at the end of a long, mostly deserted hallways. The three closest classrooms had been vacated in the budget cuts of 2001, and the administration hasn't yet hired teachers with which to fill them. It's probably the most abandoned section of the school, and before Kimbley entered school four years ago - a year before I did - no one had any reason to be over there. They still don't, really, giving Kimbley a perfect hideaway to smoke his cigarettes (and stronger substances) in peace.

The door creaked open slowly, and I couldn't help but wrinkle my nose a little at the stale smell of tobacco smoke and marijuana. It stung my eyes, making them even more teary than they had been before, so that when I finally blinked and looked at Kimbley, he was already leaning against the wall and observing me with his strange, snakelike yellow eyes, a cigarette dangling loosely from his fingers. We stared at each other like that for a moment - him exhaling a stream of smoke through his nostrils, me standing awkwardly in the doorway and holding back a fit of hysteria - until he raised an eyebrow and asked, "Trouble in paradise?"

"Fuck," I breathed, fighting back the urge to cough or sob as I stepped inside. "You have no fucking idea." My hand tightened around the crumpled match-up sheet I had shoved into my pocket during my hasty exit. It helped stop the trembling in my fingers.

He gave a noncommittal grunt as he slid back down until he was sprawling against the wall with his legs extended in front of him, and took another drag on his cigarette. After slinging my backpack down by the door, I copied his motion, until I was sitting on the ground with my back against the door. The floor was filthy but it wasn't like it mattered, because if there's one thing blue uniform pants are good for, it's hiding dirt.

I was so absorbed in trying not to think, just taking long, shuddering breaths with my eyes closed and my head tilted back, that I didn't realize I was actually crying until Kimbley tapped me on the wrist and asked, "Want a smoke?"

When I opened my eyes, the world was a blurry kaleidoscope of teary colors. "Oh, hell," I said shakily, wiping futilely at my eyes and nose. "Oh, I'm such a fucking wimp."

Kimbley regarded me curiously with those yellow eyes. "Smoke?" he offered again, tapping my wrist with the proffered cigarette. "It'll help you feel better." He had his battered pack of Marlboro Lights resting on his knee. I knew how much he valued those, and I supposed this was as close as he would come to actually trying to comfort me.

"No thanks," I replied, wiping my eyes again and trying out a smile. "Straight and narrow, that's me. I'm fine." I suppose this is a good time to inform you that the closest I ever come to substance abuse is overdoing it on the drinks at a party. It's not that I'm some kind of prude, or that I've taken Daddy-Pride's Catholic education to heart - really, it's mostly because I'm a gigantic fucking coward. Honestly, to be that... controlled by something freaks me out like you have no idea. I've done some crazy shit, yeah, but at least it's me that's doing it; at least I'm aware of myself the entire time.

Something like that.

Kimbley's reply was a soft snort, which I supposed was justified. Anyone in their right minds could tell I was most definitely anything but fine, but he let it slide. "Whatever you say, princess." He settled against the wall again and slid his cigarette back into the battered-looking box, smirking.

The 'princess' nickname rankled a bit, especially after the events of English class, but I didn't object. It was Kimbley, after all, who had been one of my first real friends in freshman year when I didn't know any better and stumbled into his bathroom with a nosebleed. He had laughed, but handed me a paper towel. When I became friends with Edward fucking Elric, I had stopped seeing him as much because I thought Ed's golden eyes looked friendlier and, you know, warmer - but then I found out that you can't judge a person by their eye color and that at least Kimbley didn't make a big deal like he pretended to care. He just didn't, and I found that outright apathy refreshing.

But that 'princess' dig - that still stung.

As Kimbley closed his eyes and took another drag on his cigarette, lost in a nicotine-induced haze (he smokes cigarettes until lunchtime and saves the stronger stuff for the afternoon), I reached into my pocket for the sadly worn Match-Up Gram (fuck you). There were several rips in it, from my fingers and Roy's, and the red, curvy Cupid pictures had lost their freshly-printed shine - not that I cared. I spread it out in my lap, smoothing it out so I could read the names. After a few minutes rubbing at my eye and a couple judicious sniffles, I got to work.

Crush matches! it read, just like it had in English. Your top match in the crush category is EDWARD ELRIC.

Okay, I thought, taking a deep breath and wiping my eyes again. Okay. I knew that already. I had read it myself; Roy had shouted it to the whole classroom. Okay.

But the sheet had been taken from me before I had gotten the chance to see any of my other 'crush matches'. If they were all guys, it would mean that I was somehow sorted as a girl. If they were all girls, either Ed had been sorted as a girl or some weird glitch just paired us together.

Taking a deep breath and wiping my eyes again, I looked at the rest of my crush matches. Sara Williams, Janine Garcia, Nadine Hawthorne, and Amy Mondragon. Girls, all of them, unless this year's batch of freshmen had some really weird parents. Okay. So either Ed was a girl, which I doubted, or it was a weird computer glitch.

I sniffed and wished for a tissue. Across from me, Kimbley blew out a stream of smoke, his eyes slitted and staring at the floor. I wondered why the smoke alarm never ratted him out, but then I remembered that it had been reduced to a black hole with a few dangling red wires, courtesy of Kimbley and the druggie-minions he had collected over the years. Not that smoke alarms mattered much at the moment.

The match-up had a section for friends as well, and I glanced down at that before a name caught my eye. Friend matches! the sheet said with nauseating curly letters. Your top match in the friends category is EDWARD ELRIC.

That floored me, honestly. I think I looked at the name for a full minute, glanced up at the crush section and stared at it there, and then looked back to Friends in numb disbelief. I was almost tempted to shove the sheet at Kimbley and have him confirm that I was not dreaming. Of course, a few seconds after that thought crossed my mind, I regained my better judgment and decided that if I thought the match-up sheet was a hallucination, I would have to write off this whole day as a dream. Which wasn't happening, because certain aspects of it were definitely way to crappy to be a figment of my imagination.

Okay, I thought again. So he matched with me on the friend section too. It made sense in an absurd kind of way, you know - we were pretty close freshman year. Though that might be because he's rather sexist and only treats girls nicely. That would explain why he started avoiding me after the whole fucking "FUCK, YOU'RE A GUY?!" episode.

(Of course, my right hook might have helped, and my pissy response to all those ridiculous late night phone calls. But the point of a crappy mood is to think irrationally and get yourself even more depressed, so I shoved those thoughts to the back of my mind.)

My other friend matches were also of the male persuasion, which convinced me that I had not been sorted as a girl. I noted with a pang that Ling Yao was not one of the names on the list; neither was Roy Mustang. Though seeing how he screwed me over in English class, maybe that wasn't such a surprise.

"Oh, fuck," I muttered as I felt my eyes filling with tears yet again. "I can't even believe that happened..."

Kimbley broke his stupor to raise an eyebrow and ask, "You say something?"

"Not really," I sighed, wishing I was brave enough to curl up on the filthy floor. I could use my backpack as a pillow for my head, I supposed, but being so close to ashes and silver candy wrappers and God knew what else made the germophobic faggot inside of me shrink away in disgust. It was usually right about things like that, so I contented myself with pressing back against the door and drawing my knees up to my chest, resting my head on top of them as I closed my eyes and pretended that I wasn't in a dingy boys' bathroom filled with smoke.

I was woken a few hours later by Kimbley's foot nudging at my side. "Mmmph," I muttered, looking up and realizing I had been in the same cramped position for over an hour. I had a horrible crick in the back of my neck, my shoulders were tense, and my ass was still asleep.

"Lunch time," he said, stubbing out his cigarette against the tile of the wall. It left a black streak. "Wake up."

Groaning, I stood, stretched, and rubbed at my bleary eyes. My spine cracked uncomfortably. "Mm, fuck."

Kimbley watched me with a look of sardonic amusement. "You coming?" he asked in a tone of voice that would seem apathetic when employed by anyone else, but signified slight surprise for him. "I'd have thought you'd stay here and sulk."

"Fuck off," I said. "I'm just..." Just wondering what people will do when they see me walk in with Kimbley? Just curious how fast the inevitable rumors have spread? Just wanting to torture myself with all the stares and smirks? I don't even know, now, but somehow it seemed like going to the cafeteria was extremely important. It never crossed my mind that I could stay in the third floor bathroom without Kimbley. "Just, uh, keeping you company," I finished lamely, checking myself in the smoke-stained mirrors. My eyes were a bit red (both from crying and from my contacts, which were kinda bugging me) and I was looking a little pinker than usual, but other than that, and the tobacco smell that had sunken into my clothing, I was still pretty. Good.

I grabbed my backpack on the way out for no particular reason (I had no intention of returning to class after that), and broke into a jog to catch up to Kimbley as he turned the corner and began to walk down the stairs.

When we got to the cafeteria it was already full of people sitting in their usual cliques, at their usual tables, gossiping and flirting and doing whatever it is that the unwashed masses do in their spare time. The serving lines were miraculously short, and I sent a silent thank you to whoever's Up There before sidling into line behind Kimbley. I had no intention of actually eating, of course - crying and anxiety makes my stomach twist up in knots and I don't usually have anything for lunch anyway. But if I at least had a plate of food in front of me, I could pretend I had something to do instead of tapping my fingers on the table, glancing around, and probably drawing even more attention to myself.

Plus, the lunches are paid for in our tuition packages, which meant the money for this wasted meal would be coming out of Daddy-Pride's voluminous pockets.

"Hey," Kimbley said, hitting me lightly on the shoulder and distracting me from my efforts to distract myself from the morning's humiliation. "Who made you cry?"

"What?" I asked, nonplussed.

"Because if it's that bastard, he's coming over here."

For some reason, an image of Edward fucking Elric flashed through my mind and I whirled around, practically in a panic. But instead of a blonde prick, it was a brown-haired jerk, walking towards me with a bag of raspberry Ghirardellis held in his hand like a white flag of surrender. I gave him my best death glare, the one I usually save for Wrath, Professor Rix, and Ed. As if he thought he could buy back my affection with a bag of 'rich bitch' chocolates.

"Want me to kick his ass for you?" Kimbley asked offhandedly. My eyes widened even further with surprise at his offer, but then I remember that Kimbley really hated Roy (for something that happened back in eighth grade when they went to the same school together, I think; I've never really asked) and would have absolutely nothing against decking him one.

I shook my head quickly. "Let's hear what he has to say, first," I said archly, loud enough so that Roy could definitely hear me.

Seeming to catch my deadly mood, he stopped about three feet away. "Look," he said, his face for once devoid of that annoying smirk. His hair was messed up and he looked as though he had just run the mile in PE or something. "I need to apologize for what I did in English class. I didn't think you would - um, I mean, I didn't know it was such a sore subject and I thought you might have laughed or something..." His voice trailed off.

"Yeah? Do you make a habit of laughing when you get publicly humiliated?" I snapped back. "Oh, that's right, you don't get publicly humiliated. Because your best friend isn't a total jerk that takes advantage of a freak Match-Up result to confirm something they've been teasing you about since freshman year because they somehow find embarrassment and shit like that amusing, isn't that right?"

Roy blinked. "I - wait, what?"

Behind him, Kimbley snickered. If he had been standing close enough, I would have elbowed him. As it was, I gritted my teeth and tried to ignore it. "You're just an asshole, okay? Whatever happened to the Golden fucking Rule? 'Do unto others' - you seem to be getting plenty of kicks out of announcing a nonexistent relationship to the entire class. I got enough of that in freshman year! Fuck, do you want me to start spreading gay rumors about, hell, you and Havoc-the-jock?"

"I wasn't -" Roy began, then swallowed. He took a step closer and held out the chocolates. "Look, I know I was an idiot, all right? What I said was totally uncalled for and I was stupid to think that you would just laugh it off, because I know you don't think that kind of thing is very funny." He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I ditched my fucking mechanical drawing class for this, okay? I'm sorry."

I glanced from the chocolates up to Roy's painfully earnest look and felt a mixture of anger, embarrassment, and wounded pride take hold of me. It was impossible for him to apologize. He could say he understood all he wanted, but he'd be lying because that kind of thing is something you'll never understand unless you're the one standing up with the class staring and feeling the blood rise to your cheeks and the tears pool in your eyes. "Know what?" I asked, biting off the ends of the words in my anger. "Fuck you and fuck your stupid apology. As if you mean it." I hit the chocolates out of his hand, making them skid across the floor, and turned to stomp out of the cafeteria.

Both Roy and Kimbley opened their mouths like they were about to say something or call me back, but I ignored them. Fuck this shit.

And I spent the rest of the school day barricaded in Sloth's car, curled up in a miserable ball in the backseat and wishing I could start the day over.

…

fin

Really, I mean it. If, at this point, all you have to say is "love the chapter, keep writing, update soon" THINK. Why do you love the chapter? What SPECIFIC parts do you like? What made you laugh out loud? What do you think about Roy? Kimbley? Rix? Envy? Anyone!

If you still fail, here's a website:

H t t p : / / w w w . w I k I h o w . c o m / G I v e – C o n s t r u c t I v e – C r I t I c I s m

If you want more ideas trying googling "How to give constructive criticism."

I'm making this as easy as possible on you.

You can even keep the review window open as you look up how to give construction criticism. With some adjustments you can even write your review while looking at the how to guide.

See how easy this is.

And seriously, if you still leave an "update" review after all of this, I'm stunned. I'm shocked and stunned.

Dear Nice Reviews,

We love you and there aren't enough of you out there. You are the reason we keep writing. We always look forward to hearing from you. You are the one thing that makes writing on this site worthwhile. Thank you. You are awesome. We loooove to reply to your reviews, you nice, wonderful, awesome, amazing people you.

Sincerely,

The Authors.


	6. Chapter 6

Author Note by: Indigo Oceans

I have an embarrassing confession to make. I'm no good at thinking up these things. To tell you the truth, Potions for Foxes is the one who comes up with all the juicy tidbits and the horribly embarrassing plot situations which make me, while writing Envy, cringe and go hide all curled up in my spinning desk chair. (I spin a lot, too.) I could be her ghostwriter, seriously; I mean, I'd _like_ to do that because her plots are always so much more interesting than my own!

But writing this story is more like watching a movie unfold, because we both come up with bits that I'm sure neither of us would've thought of on our own. (Though in PFF's case, I'm not sure...) And it's been such a fun experience; I love doing collaborations and I love reading her chapters and I love Ling and oh, just you _wait_. I mean, when I read these... it's a surprise to me too, besides the basic plot. And it's always a good surprise. (Yeah yeah, I'm being mushy.)

But. I digress. This is fucking epic, so ignore me, read the story, and leave a good review.

Indy (the 'nice' one)

Chapter by: Potions For Foxes

**Stupid Cupid**

_(quit hitting on me)_

Chapter Six

I honestly don't remember much of the week leading up to Friday the 13th. Sad, I know. But between Professor Rix's horrible moods, Mr. Tucker's awful simulated AP US History DBQs, the AP Chem test (which was brutal), German lectures, and calculus, I don't think I slept more than six hours on any given night. Actually I'm pretty sure it averaged out to less. I distinctly remember not sleeping the night before the AP Chem Test Of DOOM!!!

Seriously, I went into the physics of how ICl (Iodine monochloride) is much heavier than Br2 (Bromide) and therefore won't be as likely to move since it has a greater amount of inertia. This was before I realized that Br2 is a pure substance. It's two bromine atoms bonded together. ICl is not pure, as it is a mixture of two elements. And pure solvents boil faster than solutions. Yeah, thank God I remembered to write _that_ on the test.

So, after arriving (late) to school on the top of Winry's handlebars because I slept in too late for Mom's tastes and Al's school, I was pretty surprised to find myself not only conscious, but aware by third period.

I really have no recollection of calculus or Student Government (except I kept having nightmares that I was awake and at school, and then there was that one where I signed my soul away to Hughes and joined distance track. God I hope that was a nightmare.), however people tell me I was present and had my eyes open.

I blame my sudden awareness throughout third period on two things. One, periods one and two were really hours eight and nine of the much needed sleep I hadn't gotten during the rest of the week. Theory two: much like Pavlov's dogs, most AP English students start looking alert and twitchy around whatever period they have Rix for the simple reason that he's unpredictable and likes to catch people unawares.

I'd also managed to forget that today was the day we received the results of the Match Up Grams, something that Winry informed me the second I walked in (nearly late) to class.

"So who do you think you're going to be matched with?" Winry asked, looking at me impatiently. I sat down in my seat. I was still trying to figure out if I'd really signed my soul away to Hughes or just joined distance track. Not that there's much of a difference or anything.

"Winry," I said, looking her in the eye. "I honestly have no idea."

She narrowed her eyes and glared at me, before swishing off. She can't really stomp, since she's worn these bright yellow stilettos. Her outfit is like a bright yellow plaid 'fuck you' to the dress code. Sure, she has on the basics: pleated skirt (even if it's no where close to finger length), white shirt (with the top three buttons undone), and tie (tied like a scarf). That's the conventional part.

Winry has a bright shimmery silver spaghetti strap blousy thing over the white collared shirt. The argyle socks are yellow, black, and grey, _not _school colors. But no one ever follows that rule. Oh and yeah, she's wearing her new trench coat.

Her new yellow and black _plaid_ trench coat. So, it's only natural that I can't keep my eyes off of her. Not that Winry minds. This close to Valentine's Day she's grateful for any masculine attention she can get. Think I'm being an ass? Last year she screamed at three construction workers for _not_ whistling at her.

Russell and I had to haul her away.

"Shut up, all of you," Rix said, glaring at the clock. Class hadn't started yet. "I have a headache and we're losing this day anyways. You can have your stupid match ups, but then I'm announcing the next big essay of doom." He rubbed his temples and stared longingly at the clock. Most of the class just ignored him. "Yao! Make sure nobody kills anybody. Or if they do, hide the body in the closet. I'm stepping out."

Rix opened the side door next to his desk and disappears, possibly to down a bottle of Tylenol.

"What'd he say?" Ling asked, turning to me.

"He said—"

"Shut up Russell," at least three people chorused. Russell looks surprised and rather shocked.

"Whatever," Ling said, quickly. "It was probably just another one of Rix's bad jokes. Probably about not killing people while he grabs a smoke or something."

This statement sparks its own little conversation among those less attuned to Rix's habits. I smirked. Oh, the poor, uninformed masses, they knew so little. Luckily, Russell, Ling, and I were there to help.

"He smokes?"

"You didn't know that?"

"I tend to avoid getting close enough to smell him."

"So," Ling said, folding a piece of paper up neatly. "Ready to receive your perfect match?"

Russell and I just stared at him. Neither one of us were particularly excited about the whole match up things or Valentine's Day. Ling burst out laughing.

"You should've seen the look on your faces," Ling said in between guffaws. "It was hilarious."

Russell and I exchanged a look. We've never been able to tell if Ling covers up his awkward and random statements by laughing at them or if his sense of humor really is just that weird. It could go either way. Most people figure he's joking and he just waits to see if anyone else will catch on. But, I'm beginning to doubt that. For one, he looks way too earnest and unless he's a really good actor…

"But yeah, Ed did you know that some of the Student Government girls are trying to make it mandatory to attend the Match Dance with your Match Up Gram match," Ling said conversationally. Russell nodded.

"Yeah, didn't you hear?" Russell asked.

"Yeah right," I said. There was no way this was true. First of all, Student Government cannot _force_ people to attend dances. If we could, the random Student Government dances would flop. Secondly, there's no way that Hughes would ever support such a thing. He wouldn't force unwilling couples to dance for hours on end… oh fuck. He'd totally do that.

"How is that going to work out?" I asked.

"Well," Ling said. "Hughes can't actually force people to attend—"

"As much as he'd like to," Russell added.

"But he can strongly suggest it and encourage it," Ling said, he glanced around the room. "Just how many girls would be opposed to the idea? Think of all the girls who would find attending the Match Dance with their 'match' extremely cute or romantic."

"Fuck," I said as Rix walked back into the room. "We're screwed aren't we?"

"Yeah, pretty much," Russell said cheerfully, before scurrying back to his seat.

"Angeloff," Rix said, paging through the large packets of pink paper. "Sounds like angel, close enough to cupid. You hand these out." He thrust the pile of pink at Envy. The green-haired fre—sorry, Envy glared at him.

"Actually," Winry interrupted. "Teachers are supposed to hand them out. Student Government decided."

"Elric, Tringham, Yao," Rix said, rounding on us. "Why didn't you do something about this?"

"Well," Ling said, quickly, before Russell or I could mess things up. "It just got decided this morning. Ed was barely awake and Russell was on a sugar high or caffeine rush."

"That leaves you, Yao," Rix said. Ling shrugged. Fights with authority really don't bother him that much. He just doesn't seem to care at all. "Why didn't you do something?"

"None of us," I said, gesturing to Russell, Ling, and myself. "Having anything to do with Valentine's Day planning. Nothing. The girls do everything."

"Well aren't you the little chauvinist," Rix said. "What a charming example of misogyny."

"No," I protested, catching the gleam in Winry's eyes. It was a murderous gleam, one that promised worlds of pain to come. "It's not that. It's that we're guys, therefore, we automatically screw anything related to romance up. The girls are perfectly capable of taking care of this sort of thing."

"So, you're single, yet still whipped," Rix said, raising an eyebrow. "Nice. Attention ladies, this one." He pointed to me. "Comes trained. Familiar with commands, like sit, down, and heel. Any takers?"

"Watch out he bites!" Russell shouted.

"Just hand out the damn grams," Winry said, standing up. She glowered at Rix and held out her hand, menacingly. "Or I will."

"Fine then," Rix said, "Here's yours." He placed a packet in Winry's outstretched hand. "Oh and Smith, take yours." Rix jabbed Bernice Smith with her gram. She snatched it from him. "I wouldn't open that if I were you," Rix said, grinning evilly. "Who knows who you've been matched with or what." Bernice rolled her eyes. "Howe, here's yours, probably took the poor computers ages to find a woman kind and blind enough to have you.

"Mustang, yours feels rather thick." Rix hefted it. "Wonder how many girls you've been matched with? All of them." Roy Mustang, playboy of the juniors—well, upperclassmen, err, there was that fashion model freshman—Playboy Extraordinaire, grinned. "You'd like that wouldn't you," Rix said before moving on.

There's a brief scuffle and the fa—Envy nearly tipped over his desk. Roy waved something around and Envy started yelling at him to give it back. Rix made a play off of Envy's last name. Something about not pissing off Angeloff or pissing Angeloff off. _I_ thought it was clever.

"Open yours," Winry shouted in my ear. I glared at her. She ripped hers open the moment she got a hold of it. I don't think the name of her super-secret crush was on the match list. Still, she didn't know about half the people on her list, so that was a good thing. She could spend the rest of February trying to stalk—er get to know them.

I carefully tore open my envelope. Winry, Ling, and Russell leaned over my shoulder and waited with baited breath. I glanced over at Sloth. She was fighting back a smile. I knew it! I thought, she got matched with me. I grinned and removed the thin sheet of paper.

I blinked.

This could not be right. There had to be some horrible, terrible mistake. Maybe a computer glitch or a—

Before I even got a second chance to see my match list, Winry snatched it out of my hand. Roy let off a big whoop.

"Oh MY GAWD!" Winry shrieked. "Ling, look at THIS!"

"What?" said Russell, trying to read over Ling and Winry's shoulders. "Hahaha! Ed, you're not going to believe who you're matched with!"

"Give it back!" I shouted, leaping to my feet. Russell grabbed the paper from Ling and held it over my head, out of reach. I snarled. Russell is a quarter inch under six feet. I barely reach five foot six on a good day. Russell enjoys lording this over me at every chance he gets. Worst part is, he's still growing.

"Envy! I knew you guys were meant to be together!"

"Give it back, fucktard! It's mine!"

"Hey! LING!" Roy shouted, excited. All eyes turned to him. I took this opportunity to lunge for my match sheet. Russell nonchalantly shifted hands. Damn basketball player.

"You'll never guess who's matched with Angel!"

"Don't fucking call me that!"

"ED!" Winry shrieked, taking the sheet back from Russell. "YOU'RE MATCHED WITH ENVY!?!"

Everyone fell silent.

I sunk low in my seat. This was quite possibly the worst Valentine's Day ever.

"That what you were going to say?" Ling asked, nodding towards Winry.

"Yeah," Roy said. Envy suddenly clawed Roy and pried the crumpled sheet loose from Roy's hands. Roy glanced at Envy. Then shouted:

"ENVY'S MATCHED WITH EDWARD!"

Shit.

I guess the matching thing went both ways.

Fuck.

Envy turned beat red and he kept looking at Roy like he was trying to say "E tu, Brutus, E tu" with his eyes. Seriously Envy looked like he was about to cry or something. I don't like him, but still. He's rather fragile for being as weird as he is. Roy should know that by now.

I seriously don't like him though.

Not like that.

Or any other way you sick, sick people could possibly imagine.

I mean, ew.

But Russell would give me loads of shit if I were awful to Envy, since Fletcher pretty much went through this same thing at his school. That week when everyone learned that Fletcher was gay sucked. Al, normally all love and peace, got in about ten fights. And that was just the first day. He's a pretty vicious fighter too.

Besides, Envy really did look pathetic. Not cute, mind you. Pathetic. Like something you would pity. Not bang, pity. Like those starving children on those TV ads that beg for just a penny a day.

"What's all this commotion?" Rix asked, walking over. He only noticed because the whole class is fucking whispering about. That and I think he likes making fun of Envy. Especially when Envy gets emotional. Normally, it's pretty fun to watch, but this is just a little too unfair.

I say this because a fair fight is much more fun to watch and remember I pity Envy. P-I-T-Y. Pity. Pathetic things are not hot. You do not have sex with pathetic girls—well, maybe one night stands if she's hot, but other than—and he's not hot. He's practically crying over some stupid little match up gram.

Why the fuck did Winry have to announce it to the whole damn class anyway? Just because she didn't get whom she wanted on her match shit—sheet, doesn't mean she gets to make the rest of us miserable.

By rest of us, I mean me.

"Oh, let's see who you got paired off with, Angeloff," Rix said, diving in for the kill.

"Fuck you!" Envy yelled rising to his feet. He grabbed up his stuff and jammed it into his backpack. "Fuck you, Rix!" he said again. "Who do you think I got matched with, Roy fucking announced it to the whole damn class." Envy pushed past Roy and walked to the door. "I'm leaving," he said, and slammed the door behind him. The whole class fell silent.

Invariably they all looked at me.

"The next person who speaks to me is going to get their fucking head ripped off," I said and looked around the room at everyone. I didn't want to talk to anyone about these stupid match ups. Especially because I knew it wasn't a computer glitch. Well, Envy getting sorted as a girl or something probably was.

I snatched the sheet back from Russell's slack hand.

Damn.

We even matched on the "friends" category.

So even if the whole crush matching or whatever they called it was a glitch, the compatibility wasn't. Besides, I didn't need some stupid test to tell me that. Just look at fucking freshman year. I _asked Envy out_. And I was pretty serious about it. I even talked to my mom about "her." I was going to introduce Envy to my very Catholic mother.

In some ways, I'm almost grateful that Envy wasn't a girl.

Not in that way, sicko.

...

The day did not get better. I spent the rest of the day after third period getting teased and asked about the stupid match up gram. Then I started looking for Envy at lunch to explain—I don't even know what to him. Possibly cheer him up, if only to keep him from murdering me in my sleep, the fucking homo—shit. I'm supposed to be nice to him. Because he's Sloth's stupid brother and all.

Not that that would've gone well. I saw what happened when Roy, Envy's _friend_, tried to apologize. Winry was yattering in my ear about how Roy had ditched Mech drawing and he wasn't there (I started tuning her out midway through the conversation) and all that jazz, when suddenly Roy walks into the cafeteria.

He looked like hell, completely frazzled and in disarray. Like he'd been real worried about something, stressed, you know? Or like another Chem experiment had lit the ceiling on fire. But same thing.

Winry, Russell, Ling, and I watched him walk over to the far end of the cafeteria where Envy was standing with Kimbley, the one other person, besides me, who has yellow eyes. And let me tell you this, I _hate_ sharing a characteristic trait like that Kimbley. He's just so unbelievably creepy.

Envy used to be friends with Kimbley during freshman year. I haven't really seen the two of them together since then. Possibly because Roy_ hates_ Kimbley. Funny, how Envy returns to his old friends when Roy … fucks things up.

Though if he really went in order of least old, he'd have sought _me_ out. And then I could've, I'm not really sure what. But face it, I'm the only one who can really empathize with Envy at this point—okay maybe not since rumors don't really bother me like they affect Envy.

That's why I felt so bad after the whole Guy-Fuck-Yelling thing. Envy really took those gay rumors hard. But he wouldn't let me talk to him or anything. He was convinced it was some elaborate prank (it was just an honest mistake!).

But yeah, Roy didn't fare much better with his apology, which is really too bad, since Roy hates apologizing more than anything. He went about it all wrong. First of all, there really wasn't anything he could say to make it better. Secondly, he didn't wait long enough for Envy to cool off (which takes a long time, especially if crying and public humiliation are involved). His third error was the chocolates. Sure, that might work on a girl, but appearances aside, Envy is very much a guy. Or at least, he's a very bitchy girl. You know, the type who assumes that chocolate is a plan to get them fat or something.

Yeah.

So Roy walked over to Envy and while we couldn't quite catch was they were saying we got the gist of it.

Kimbley wanted to beat the shit out of Roy. (Nothing new)

Roy was bullshitting an apology because he was terrified of losing his best friend and the only person who really tolerates him.

Envy. Envy was very conflicted. Confused, angry, hurt, embarrassed, betrayed, it really was a toss up.

Then Envy hit the chocolates out of Roy's hand and stormed off. Kimbley cracked his knuckles menacingly. Roy glanced at the door Envy disappeared through and then back at Kimbley. He picked up the bag and headed over to eat with us. As if that was a cue for something, everyone started talking at once. I rolled my eyes; must the rumor mill spin so fast?

"Hey," Roy said, "Mind if I join you?"

"Sure," Ling said, scooting down. Winry eyed Roy. He smiled at her. Honestly, if the world were imploding Roy would still notice every single bit of female attention he received.

"That went well," Roy said, staring at the bag of chocolates. I looked at my watch. Over thirty minutes of lunch left and this conversation was going to take an awkward turn, I knew it.

"You," Ling said, "Are a bastard and an asshole."

"Hey," Roy said, raising his hands. "I already feel awful enough because of Envy. He's not handling it well. And besides, you did it too."

"We're not Envy's friends," Winry said, pointing at Roy with her fork. She viciously stabbed her salad. Roy watched, transfixed.

"You're Ed's friends," Roy countered.

"I am, in fact, present," I said staring up at the high, vaulted ceilings. There were skylights at the top and some students had filtered up to the railed off hallways on the sides. "Stop talking about me like I'm not here."

"Why are you taking this so well," Roy moaned, staring at me. "You're not crying alone in bathrooms with serial drug offenders. You're not throwing a tantrum or hissyfit or anything. You're still friends with your friends."

"Roy," Russell said. "Edward doesn't do hissyfits. Anyways, he's too preoccupied with how he's going to stop his parents from finding out about this to really hate us."

"Oh fuck," I said, I'd forgotten about that whole mail deal until now. Roy looked at me questioningly. "My results are mailed to my house."

"Man, you are so screwed," Roy said, looking really apologetic. It was creepy and weird. Like the sun rising in the west or something. "You should just tell your parents Envy's a girl."

"Won't explain the friend match," I said, stirring my soup pensively. "And besides, I told my mom about the freshman debacle." Roy looked at me as if to say 'you told them _that?_' "Hey! I had to explain the black eye and the fact that no, Mom was not going to meet this girl, because she wasn't actually a girl. Yeah, my Dad found that fucking hilarious. Oh God. He's going to have a field day with this."

"Dude, I am so sorry," Roy said again and awkwardly patted my back.

...

I didn't fare much better at home. Mom already got the mail and my stupid, retarded, dumb match-up gram arrived. I'd also just gotten a lecture about cursing and was under strict orders not to swear; else I'd find myself in the confessional, come Sunday. I bit into a cookie with unnecessary violence. Al was already in his room. He took one look at my face and fled.

I can't blame him.

Sloth's the only one who was immune to my foul mood today.

Not that I like her anymore. She is, after all, the one who _said_ Envy and I would make such a "cute couple." Yeah, not happening.

"Envy?" Mom said looking up from the Match Up Gram. "Isn't that the name of the girl you really liked freshman year?"

I nodded.

"I liked her, she was such a dear," Mom said and smiled. I throw up a little in my mouth. Envy's not a dear. He's not endearing. He's pathetic and sexually unattractive. End of fucking story.

"Envy's a guy," I said, breaking apart another cookie. Mom doesn't seem to notice or care that I've already eaten three.

"Oh, OH! Well, why is he matched up with you then?" she asked, peering at me. She looks concerned. Like she doesn't know why or how Envy, a guy, could be matched with me, also a guy. The much scarier thought is this: Mom is wondering if her eldest son _really_ mistook Envy for a girl. She is wondering if this isn't some elaborate cover plan because I don't feel comfortable coming out to her.

I don't even want to think about that possibility.

It's not true.

Even if I were gay, which I'm not, I wouldn't have any problems coming out to my parents. After seeing how supportive and sensitive they were about Fletcher, I have no doubt in my mind that they would be nauseatingly supportive of me if I came out.

Which will not happen because I'm not in a fucking closet.

"I don't know! I just filled out my thing. Maybe he filled in girl by accident," I said. People asked me stuff like this the whole day. The lone bright side was that Dad wasn't home yet. He was going to have a field day with this. I don't even want to think about what Al's going to do.

"Why would he do that?" Mom asked. She's calm, the perfect example of reason. The only thing that mars this image of tranquility is the worry on her face. Sensitive, kind, politically correct worry.

Nothing makes me want to throw a temper tantrum more. It's like I'm five again.

"I don't know, maybe he had a sex change, it's not like you can tell or anything!" I shouted, throwing my hands up. I don't know why I was matched up with the fucking fag—green haired fre—pathetic l—_Envy_. It could be anything. A computer glitch (doesn't explain the friends match…), Envy could've filled out girl (wouldn't Roy have yelled something different? And more guys would've matched with him…), proof that there is a God and moreover, He hates me?

Or karma for screwing up something that could've been really great.

Last time I ask fucking Ling Yao, of undetermined sexual orientation, for an opinion.

Winry said it was destiny.

Russell agreed with me. God, he said, hates you. And with good reason.

"Why don't you just ask him?"

I cannot believe what my mother just suggested.

"Oh that'd go over real well, Mom," I said, trying to imagine how that conversation would go. 'Oh hey, Envy, how'd you get matched up with me? What'd you do, fill in girl?' Yeah, he'd probably punch me. And let me tell you this, he has a mean right hook. "He hates me. He still hasn't forgiven me for mistaking him for a girl."

"But you said he looked like one, I'm sure it was just an honest mistake," Mom said, taking a bite of her cookie.

"It was, Envy just doesn't see the reasoning behind it." The fact that I did yell 'FUCK you're a guy!?!' is probably what prevents Envy from seeing the reasoning. I never told Mom. Dad knows but she doesn't. I planned to keep it this way. It's better this way. Mom would become very disappointed in me, even though it was years ago and I regretted the words almost the instant I shouted them.

Even before Envy punched me, I regretted those words.

And it didn't just have to do with the gay rumors. Those didn't bother me. Mainly because they didn't bother Rose. And when a guy is sticking his tongue down the throat of the hottest girl in school, you can't really call him gay.

"Please don't show this to Dad," I said, picking up my backpack. Mom smiles sweetly.

"I never hide anything from your father," Mom said. My face fell. She smiled. "But I will put it in with the phone bill, he hates looking at that."

"Thank you, thank you Mom," I said. "You're a lifesaver."

She shrugged and pulled a cookbook down from the shelf. I dodged around the corner to avoid another conversation about why I didn't want to cook anymore. The snickers my cheesecake skills earned at Al's freaky little school, after he announced that it had been I, not Mom, who had baked the cake. If the denizens of Al's school thought I was weird for baking, well, just think about that, alright.

I'd probably end up cooking tomorrow night anyways. It's Valentine's Day and Dad's hopeless in the kitchen. He's been banned from it. I've tried telling him that cooking is really just chemistry, but he doesn't believe. Something about the lack of reactants and products in the recipe. The fact that most cookbooks use cups and tablespoons instead of moles bothers him.

He's real pathetic in the kitchen. It's not that he can't cook; it's just that he's never really learned. And he won't admit it. So, my mom just assumes he knows basic things like the different between a tablespoon and a table spoon (the one you set the table with). Only he doesn't and that leads to a lot of messes.

I think I started cooking just to spite him.

No really, I'm pretty sure that's how I started cooking.

I was five.

No joke.

Mom had just yelled that sugar cookies were so simple a five year old could bake them. Dad decided to test this. Granted he waited till Mom was out grocery shopping, but still. He set me, a five year old, loose in the kitchen with a recipe.

He was shocked when he returned twenty minutes later to not only find the kitchen in complete disarray, but the most perfect sugar cookies in the oven. He was flabbergasted. So was Mom. Though that had more to do with the state of her kitchen and the fact that Hohenheim trusted a five year old to work an oven.

Hell's Kitchen is my favorite show.

Mom thought it would be funny to get me to audition for it. Fortunately, Dad stepped in before Mom could send out the tape. He felt that no one outside of family really needed to see me, at age twelve, pretending to be Gordon Ramsay.

Mom thought it was darling until Al ran out of the kitchen, crying, after I tried to "teach" him to cook.

...

I sat down at the table and laid my chemistry homework out. Even though we'd just had a test this week, there was still stuff to do. Like reading notes and problems for the next unit. That class was intense.

"You realize that Dad hasn't bought Mom anything for Valentine's Day," Al said, pulling out a deck of cards. He sat down on the floor. I ran my finger along the line of words on the page. The equilibrium state is—

"You know what that means," Al prompted.

"Yes, Al, I know what that means," I said through gritted teeth. The

equilibrium—

"Midnight shopping at random stores," Al said, setting up a game of solitaire.

The equilib—

"Wonder what Mom wants this year. Roses and chocolate are givens, perhaps jewelry?"

The equil—

"Ed, I have this feeling you're ignoring me."

The eq—

"Why is that? Why would my own brother ignore me when I'm trying to talk to him?"

"Al," I said, looking up from the AP Chemistry book. "Maybe it's because I'm trying to study."

"You study too much," Al said flippantly. "Plus, it's _Friday_. You'll have the whole weekend to study. And aren't you and that one guitar hippy dude having a Chemistry shindig tomorrow anyways? You aren't trying to impress him, are you?"

"Shut up Al," I said.

"I mean you two have so much in common—"

"Like the fact that we both like _women_."

"You're both chauvinists, sarcastic, jerks who ignore their younger—"

"And who the hell says shindig anymore?" I asked.

"It's the Word of the Day," Al replied, flipping over another card.

"Actually, I believe that expurgate is today's word," I said and I knew this only because Winry had sent me today's word. Something about how it might find its way on to the SAT test and she wanted me to know it. She's so freaked about the tests and they're still about a month away, at the earliest. I don't see what the big deal is. You can still take them up until November of your senior year, depending on where you apply.

"I think that shindig is a perfectly acceptable word," Al said, reshuffling the deck. "It does an admirable job of conveying both the 'wholesome', parent approved, fifties-esque nature of this study-date and my distain for it. It's also ironic."

"Careful Al," I said, ignoring the first part of his comment. Honestly, Roy Mustang, the Mormon hippy, and I, Edward L. Elric, future boyfriend of Sloth—_wait_, screw that, she'd probably try to set me up with her brother or something. "You start saying ironic too much and you'll start listening to the Shins, then the Smiths, then bands that are so new they don't even have names."

Al, instead of glaring at me, merely asked:

"So you don't deny the study-date nature of this _shindig_?"

He said shindig as though it was something radioactive and infectious, the next biological weapon of mass destruction combined with the bubonic plague.

"Al," I said, smiling faintly. "Nothing is going to happen. Both Roy and I are straight."

Then Al muttered something that I didn't quite catch.

"What was that?" I asked.

"I _said_, so is spaghetti until you heat it up," Al said, annunciating each word before returning to his game of solitaire.

Huh?

What did that—?

_So is spaghetti until you heat it up._

I'm not pasta!

Besides that would make Envy what? The pot? The water? The burner?

"Ed?" Al asked, finally. "Are you okay? You know I was just joking, right?"

I nodded mutely.

"Besides, I'd hope you'd have better taste in guys than Roy, if you were gay, which you aren't, apparently," Al said.

"What's that supposed to mean? What's wrong with Roy?"

"Oh nothing, just I'd hope that if you ever were going to have a boyfriend, you'd have the sense not to pick Roy. I mean you'd probably kill each other. Seriously, you shouldn't have a significant other that makes fun of your height like that."

"What the hell's wrong with my height!"

"Nothing, Ed," Al said, "Just do your Chemistry homework."

…

"Ed! Here take this," Al said and thrust a sheet of paper at me. I took it. "You've got flowers and chocolate duties this year. Remember roses! Dad, you're coming with me." I watched as Al dragged Dad off to the posh department store across the street.

Now, you might think it's odd that I'm going into Target for flowers and chocolate seeing as Dad's about to drop maybe a hundred dollars on a piece of jewelry, but the honest to God truth is this: Target is the best place to shop for chocolate in our town.

No joke. The specialty stores are good and all, but some of the stuff they make is just plain weird. They never have just basic chocolate either. It's always chocolate with this weird flavor or exotic chocolates or designer chocolates or really small expensive things.

I grabbed a hand basket near the door and headed over to the flower display. There's a small crowd of about eight men all standing confused around the flowers. One sneezes. Another is muttering something about allergies and pollen.

I rolled my eyes. Honestly, it's not that hard. Stick with roses and you're pretty much golden (unless she's allergic or something). I reached in and grabbed a bouquet of red roses. I reached for another and hefted it in my hands. Definitely getting two, I thought. After all, it wasn't my money I was spending. Might as well have extras, just in case I was to drop by Sloth's house tomorrow. Or something.

The chocolate aisle was easy to find. It was near the front of the store and decked out in red and pink, complete with hearts and cupids. The only thing it was missing was neon-flashing lights.

I walked down the aisle. Mom _loved_ Hershey Kisses, but she tended to eat the whole bag, complain about being fat, and the put the entire family on some awful sort of diet for a week.

Out of the corner of my eye I spotted two people down at the far end of the aisle. I glanced away quickly. I wasn't positive, but it looked like Sloth and Envy. Sloth was hot and all, and I had been trying to find Envy all day, but I didn't want to run into them. It was a combination that could only end badly.

Even Russell, Sloth, Envy, and I would be safer—actually, that could be worse or well, at least Russell would draw some of the attention off of me. Ling would be even better; he could hypnotize Envy with his lip ring.

I clinked my piercing against my front teeth. I could distract Envy too, though my piercing is not exactly obvious. I mean, he'd probably only realize it if I made out with him or took off my shirt or something.

I can't really do either in Target.

As I reached the Ghirardelli section, the two people got into an argument. I didn't listen, but it ended with the girl winning. She flounced over to me and greeted me cheerfully.

"Hi, Ed!" Sloth said, smiling broadly. Envy grumbled a complaint. "Fancy running into you here."

"Hello," I said, nodding at Sloth before actually reading Al's list. I wasn't trying to ignore them (okay, so what if I was); it was just better if we didn't talk, considering what happened in English and all.

Never before had I imagined an experience with Envy awful enough to eclipse freshman year. The fiasco with the match-up grams had definitely done just that. Not that it was my fault or anything. I just filled the stupid thing out.

"So what are you here for?" Sloth asked brightly. Envy glared at her and muttered something. I doubted it was complimentary. Even though I'd rather not talk, Sloth seemed pretty determined to carry on a conversation. Besides, I liked talking to her.

"My mom," I said, smiling. It was out of habit more than anything. I always smiled around Sloth or anyone I wanted to impress. I'd been told I had a nice smile and Sloth was also a very smiley person. You couldn't really help but smile when you talked to her.

Or at least I couldn't. I really did like her. She was different, exotic, interesting. Even if she did think I'd be cute with Envy. That was forgivable. She also had D or double D boobs and was wearing a pretty low-cut and tight pink: dress thing. I guess you'd call it a tennis dress. Only I don't think you could play tennis in that. It was just too tight, short, and low for athletic activities.

She looked damn good in it though.

Sloth quirked a finely arched eyebrow.

"Little Oedipus complex you've got there," she commented with a knowing smile. Envy snickered at the comment before glaring at me again. I ignored him. Wonder what he would do if I asked why he always stared at me.

Murder.

He would murder me. And then Al would kill me for not buying the chocolates.

Frantically, I tried to remember what stupid play she was talking about. What did Oedipus have to do with roses anyways?

Right, he was that motherfucker.

"Nah," I said, smiling. "Al just assigned me Flowers and Chocolates this year. Honestly, my Dad's helpless around Valentine's Day. If it wasn't for Al, I doubt he'd remember the date."

"Your dad's a scientist, isn't he?" Sloth asked. Envy looked longingly across the store. I sighed. This conversation would be so much nicer if he'd just _leave_. But Sloth seemed to want him there.

"Yes, he is," I said and squinted at the list. Did it say raspberry or peanut butter? I honestly couldn't tell. I hunted around for other y's and r's. It's the best way to decode handwriting. Look for similar letters and compare. Strangely enough, Al's r's looked like v's and his y's could be either and that might be a scribble over rr's or a set of t's. I really couldn't tell.

Sloth snatched the list out of my hands, and Envy groaned. I waited patiently. Sloth was still gripping Envy's arm rather tightly. Bummer, couldn't she just let him go?

"This is writing?" she asked after frowning at the paper for a minute.

"Yeah," I said. "Al flunked penmanship about three times. He's gotten better, but he likes to tell us that it keeps Mom from catching on, even if she finds the list." I pushed my bangs out of my face. "God, my little brother is so weird."

"I think it's cute," she replied, showing the list to Envy who raised an eyebrow but said nothing. "He sounds like fun."

"He's," I paused, searching for the right words to describe Al. There weren't any. "I guess he's okay. He just tends to be needlessly mortifying at times and he's really, really just the weirdest kid you'll ever meet."

"Hmmm, really?" Sloth asked. "Actually, that sounds a lot like Envy." She elbowed Envy, who glared at her. He did not look happy. Not that I cared, it's just hard to flirt with a girl when her brother's right there, glaring. "He's seriously weird. You know he paints his nails?"

Envy tried to yank out of her grip but failed. He hissed something at Sloth but she ignored him.

"Does your brother do that?" Sloth asked, pretending she wasn't holding a struggling Envy captive.

"Uh," I said, stalling for time. I had no idea how to respond to this without offending either Envy or Sloth. I don't even know why I care about offending Envy, except that that would make everything more awkward and Winry's probably right, I should be nicer to Envy because he _is_ her brother and all.

And Envy's not here willingly and he doesn't seem able or willing to spill one of Sloth's secrets or deny it. Not that anyone would believe if he did. And you really shouldn't share other people's secrets like that. They should be able to choose or at least blackmail _you_.

"Actually, Winry used to paint mine and Al's nails," I said and shrug. It's a complete lie and I hope that neither Sloth nor Envy ever check with Al or Winry or my mother. "Mom threw a fit when she found out, but it wasn't too bad. Winry didn't make us wear pink or anything. I think she painted Al's so color called sea-foam and she'd always paint mine gold, you know to match."

That got Sloth's attention.

"Ooh, maybe my cousin Wrath will let me do that for him. Neon green, of course," she said, grinning. I pitied her cousin. Though, if what Envy told me was accurate, Wrath probably wouldn't mind much. Envy's eyes widened. I guess he was trying to imagine me with gold nail polish. I mentally cringed at the sight.

"I dunno," I said. "I think we agreed because we always thought it was a little unfair. You know, how come Winry gets to do it, but we don't sorta thing. I mean, she pretty much did whatever the boys did, growing up."

I gave up on Al's list. Might as well get both raspberry filled chocolates and peanut butter. Can't go wrong with that idea. I hesitated. Should I spend Dad's money on an extra bag of the caramel squares? Why the hell not? I was shopping for him. He owed me that much, at least.

"Hey," Envy said to Sloth, purposely excluding me. He glanced around. "Isn't uh, Mom waiting for us? Shouldn't we get going?"

Sloth snorted.

"Stop that, En," she said quickly. She flipped her long hair back. "You know she's on a date with Dad. And Wrath's at a friend's, so don't try to use him as your excuse either."

"So, er Sloth," I asked, casting around for a topic of conversation. She obviously wanted to talk to me, despite what her sibling wanted. "What brought you here tonight?"

"Chocolate," Sloth replied. "Just like you." Behind her, Envy started tapping his foot. He looked uncomfortable and irritated. Which is completely understandable. He's had a rotten day. Granted, so had I, but Envy's just more sensitive about those sort of things.

"Did you hear that Hughes is going to try to put on a match up dance?" I blurted out, desperate for something to say. "And I guess he's trying to make it mandatory to go with your top-match or something."

Envy jerked as if someone had burned him and turned bright red. He glared at me and ground his teeth together.

"Like hell," he spat, finally contributing to the conversation. My eyes widened at the venom in his voice. Sloth looked delighted.

What had I said?

"So you guys will be going together?" Sloth asked merrily. She grinned brightly at me.

Oh shit.

I'd forgotten about that gram thing. I'd just wanted to keep talking with Sloth and then it just sort of came out. I know what you're thinking too. How could I have forgotten about something that embarrassing that quickly? Well, you know how your memory represses traumatic events? Let's go with that.

As it was, I turned beet-red and avoided Envy's violet eyes. He was giving me a death glare, deserved I supposed. I just brought up the worst moment of his life (I'm guessing here. The English incident _must_ be in the top ten). There was no way I was asking Sloth out now. Definitely wasn't going to show up with a rose for her either.

It didn't matter what she was wearing. She could be naked for all I…naked, now that was an interesting...well—she wasn't naked.

"Uh," I said, trying to find actual words and not just shriek obscenities at Sloth and the world in general. "I-I don't think that Hughes really has the, um power or err, authority to actually do anything more than strongly suggest that people attend with their matches. And some matches aren't reciprocal."

"But you and Envy both matched!"

"I—"

"Hey! Ed! Dad finally bought the watch I told him to, c'mon, let's go!" Al yelled at me from the end of the aisle. "You got the chocolates?"

"Err yeah," I said, glad to have some distraction, cheeks still red. I don't want to continue the conversation and it _is_ nice to know that Envy's willing to speak to me. Or at least acknowledge my presence. Maybe he's realized that this _isn't my fault_. Well, except for freshman year. But that was years ago. Still, maybe he doesn't hate me. "Bye, Sloth, bye Envy." I made eye contact with Envy and instantly felt something weird. He has the strangest expression on his face. I smiled to hide my discomfort. "I'm coming Al!"

…

On the ride home, I sat in the backseat and thought about that strange conversation. It was weird on so many levels. I didn't even know why I said half the things I did. Why did I lie to make Envy feel better? Why did I care? Winry likes to tell me that the only time I'm ever sympathetic or intuitive is when I like some girl. But I don't like Sloth that much. She's fun to flirt with, but it's not a real connection-connection.

Later, in my room, Al told me that Mom likes peanut butter and couldn't I read his writing? I was so caught in thoughts about Envy and Sloth that I didn't reply at first. Al sighed, muttered something, and left with the correct chocolates.

I opened one of the raspberry packages and ate a square. It tasted nice. The raspberry was sweet and tangy and the dark chocolate was smooth and rich.

That was how I fell asleep Friday night, with the taste of raspberry and chocolate on my lips.

…

By the way, if you haven't yet and you like this story, you should go check out Potions for Foxes stories that she has on her personal account. They're wonderful. And check out mine too, while you're at it (I'm indigo's ocean, if you hadn't guessed). We're both this account's favorite authors.

Oh, and! Before I forget, thanks to our beta PFF's-friend-Anna, who's been a lovely, big help!

(PFF: okay due to time restraints, homework, and skydiving, Anna did not beta this. So, if it's a little less polished that would be why. And if Indigo were here, she'd be able to make the underlines be links. h t t p : / / w w w . f a n f i c t i o n . n e t / u / 1 1 9 2 0 8 1 / P o t i o n s _ f o r _ F o x e s and h t t p : / / w w w . f a n f i c t i o n . n e t / u / 1 2 4 6 9 0 1 / i n d i g o s _ o c e a n [start at the back and just hit the left-arrow-key and backspace alternatingly])


	7. Chapter 7

AN by Potions For Foxes: This is, yet again, an awesome chapter. Once again, I am finished (or nearly finished) with my chapter and can with hold it. So no update!reviews. Actually, on that note: I have massive amounts of AP Chem, Calculus, and AP English due very soon. I'm also incredibly behind on AP Chem. Fortunately, my AP Chem teacher, bless her heart, gave us the solutions, all worked out and everything, to the AP test and chapter problems she assigned over break. I love her. So, if I get pressed for time I will copy. I'm mentioning this because you need to know how lovely my AP Chem teacher is. She is so awesome. And she occasionally dresses like a Jedi (which impresses all of the boys, even though she's at least fifty. But hey, all boys—hell, all males are secretly StarWars geeks).

Editing is probably terrible. That would be my fault. Uh, paragraphs seem long to me, but I like short ones.

I'm going to OSU (regardless of what my parents think. It is happening. If you're a female, attending Oregon State University in the fall, interested in Callahan, Finly, or McNary, sleeps in complete darkness, aren't a slob or neat freak, intelligent, witty, like my writing, and aren't a religious/health food fanatic, message me Potions For Foxes with your first and last name (possibly city if you think there's duplicates out there) and I will search for you on the room-mate match site. NOTE: no transvestites (it's not you, it's my mother's reaction to you). ALSO NOTE: I am not interested in pursuing a non-platonic relationship with a roommate. If we break up, it will be extremely awkward. )

Basically, I'd love to room with someone who is thrilled to death that they are sharing air with Potions For Foxes. (As long as they're, you know, not a blithering idiot and don't write terrible fanfiction). I am such a narcissist. And yes, I do expect people to actually read all this. I always read A/Ns.

But anyways, Indigo Ocean is an awesome writer; sometimes I can't decide if I love her writing more than mine. Coming from a narcissist this is high praise. She's captured Envy perfectly. He's so … jealous and possessive. _And totally perfect for Ed_. Envy just makes these completely wrong assumptions and then runs with them. It's awesome. He's response to Ed's last lines is hilarious. You can just feel the sarcasm. In fact, this is right up there with "It was absolutely necessary to interrupt him now" (Pride and Prejudice, _Austen_) and "In my case," said Emma, "it didn't _begin_ till after I was married." (Madame Bovary, _Flaubert_). These are quotes that I feel illuminate the character and are the most concentrated part of the entire novel. I can picture the character so clearly at these moments it's brilliant. She writes a lot of them for Envy (and a few for Sloth)

Read, give nice reviews, and yeah.

Oooh, you might like to know this: we're probably going to do a small scale series on frosh year. It start the week after school starts when Ed meets Envy at a party and end with the whole FUCK! You're a GUY?!?! Thing. (there will, of course, be an epilogue detailing Ed and Envy's reactions). Don't bug us about this. We want to do and being bugged about doing it makes me not want to do it (or at least not post it). And I am Indigo's motion for writing.

Enjoy

Chapter by Indigo Oceans:

Stupid Cupid

_(quit hitting on me)_

Chapter Seven

Of course, when I got home the only thing I wanted to do was curl up in a corner and _die_. Since I'm not suicidal and, unfortunately, my house lacks convenient and isolated corners, I settled with the next best option - taking a couple Tylenol to soothe the raging headache that was beating at my temples and then curling up in my bed to sleep.  
I must have passed out as soon as I lay down; because the next thing I knew, it was dark Sloth was leaning over my bed, shaking me awake.

"What the...?" I groaned, blinking blearily and rubbing at my eyes, which felt dry and scratchy from sleeping with my contacts in. I hate it when I do that. "Sloth, what the fuck are you doing in my room?"

She shook me again. "You're still in your school uniform," she told me. I already knew - I realized I had forgotten to change when I felt the tie practically strangling me. "And you smell like tobacco, really badly. You weren't smoking, were you?"

"As if you care," I muttered, rolling back over and pulling a pillow over my head. As my eyes closed again despite the discomfort from the contacts, my speech degenerated to slurred grutns. "G'way. Was sleeping..."

"Not anymore," she said, poking me annoyingly in the side. I squirmed. Shut up, I'm ticklish. "Come on, get up!"

Growling, I sat up and flung the pillow at her face. She batted it aside. "Okay, I'm fucking _up_. What the _fuck_ do you want?"

She grinned, ignoring the certain death I was attempting to promise with my voice. I've heard my evil voice is pretty effective; I mean, it even freaks Roy out now and then. Apparently the only one it doesn't affect is my half-sister. "Great! Now get changed and brush your hair. We're going shopping."

Unsurprisingly, fifteen minutes later I was wearing a long-sleeved shirt and gray pants, leaning against the front door and waiting for Sloth to finish giving Wrath the obligatory home alone talk, which consists of a litany of phone numbers, tips about fire safety, and about ten reminders of where everyone will be. It was rather pointless because he was going to be picked up for a sleepover in about two minutes and because Wrath, being a supremely abnormal child, outgrew this talk when he was about five. But apparently it never hurts. And daddy-Pride made it mandatory when he returned from a date with Russian wife to find the kitchen in flames.

That was about six months ago - despite his many and varied areas of expertise, Wrath remains unable to cook a thing.

I rolled my eyes and glanced at the clock in annoyance (ten o'clock already and I would have rather donned my pajamas and climbed back into bed), then rolled my eyes again when Sloth appeared at the top of the stairs. She was wearing a pink dress that she had bought on our shopping trip the Sunday before, and it was the first time I had seen her actually in it. Let me tell you, it was _way_ shorter and _way _lower than I had expected from seeing it in her bag.

"You look kinda like a slut," I told her, raising an eyebrow. It was more of an observation than anything else.

"You smell kinda like a stoner," she replied brightly, before taking my arm in one hand, her purse in another, and marching me out to her car. As she revved the engine and checked her lip gloss in the mirror, I surreptitiously sniffed my arm. Sloth was right - the tobacco-and-marijuana smell of Kimbley's bathroom clung to my skin and my hair like my own personal high. I wrinkled my nose. Thank God daddy-Pride had already taken Russian wife out for some kind of corporate party date, otherwise tonight would be the confirmation of his suspicion that I was some kind of deviant druggie.

Things didn't get much better when she parked in front of Target, the one that's just a few blocks away from our house.

Sloth grabbed my arm again as we walked into the store, leaning against me and then wrinkling her nose. "Geez," she commented. "You could've at least showered, En."

"Like I had a chance!" I snapped. "You were the one who wanted to get the fuck out of the house!" I rubbed my eyes with my free hand. "And I don't even understand why I go along with this..."

"Chocolate," she replied, grinning at me playfully. Sometimes I wish we weren't exactly the same height, though I suppose that's better than Sloth being taller. "Your instincts were telling you that I was chocolate shopping."

"Sure," I said, and rolled my eyes.

Sloth nudged me a little. "You know that nighttime the day before Valentine's day is the best time to go chocolate shopping!" She adopted a patronizing air. "In fact, _everyone_ knows that. Because this way, you beat the hordes in the morning, who're desperate and dangerous because they forget their significant others. And you come right when the responsible people have mostly gone to bed. They start re-stocking the chocolate aisle around now, too."

I would have told her she was a freak for remembering that much, but the knowledge was a result of many Valentine's day research trips we had taken over the years. It took us from sixth grade until now, junior year, to perfect our knowledge of consumer behavior, and I guess you could say we were reaping our rewards (not that I was in a mood to reap anything at the moment, really).

True to Sloth's prediction, the Target was nearly empty when we entered. I watched myself on the television that displayed the live feed from the security cameras until Sloth nudged my shoulder. "Right there," she said, gesturing to the tacky pink aisle at the front of the store. "As usual."

I grunted some noncommittal reply and trudged behind her to look at the chocolates. I hadn't eaten anything all day - not that I really had an appetite, after the debacle in English - and I was beginning to crave something sweet. Chocolate never fails to cheer me up after a shitty day. It's my fucking comfort food.

...And I was beginning to wish I had taken the chocolates from Roy while rejecting his apology, instead of hitting them out of his hand.

But that didn't matter.

"Oh, _fuck_," I groaned, rubbing my eyes with the back of my hand. It was too late to be thinking about shit like that. I was tired, I needed sleep, and I was halfway pissed at Sloth for dragging me out of bed to go on a fucking shopping trip.

"You say something?" Sloth asked. She was already at the end of the aisle, having blown _right_ past the section where they keep the Ghirardelli chocolates. Of course. Go figure. She always skips straight to the chocolate boxes, the ones that have all the weird flavors. Like strawberry or orange liqueur or _lemon_. Who the hell puts lemon-flavored filling in a fucking piece of chocolate? Citrus fruits in general do not go well with chocolate. That's just how it is.

But, um, anyway...

"No," I replied sullenly. I yawned. "Can't we just grab something and go home? Do we absolutely _have_ to sit here for an hour?"

Sloth smoothed down the front of her dress. "Come on, En, don't be a spoilsport. It's tradition!" She poked me in the shoulder. "And who knows what kind of interesting people we'll see?"

I stared morosely down at a bag of Lindt truffles. They were pretty good, but the chocolate-on-chocolate flavor had nothing on Ghirardelli's raspberry filled squares.

"Yeah, alright, whatever." I wished I could go sit somewhere, or go back to the car. Normally, I would have been bouncing around and checking out every single chocolate brand (as well as the eligible single males that came to buy them). Unfortunately, the match-ups seemed intent on ruining my life.

As if to prove my suspicion, at that moment I caught sight of a blonde braid over the rows of chocolate. Probably a girl, the rational side of me said. Probably some blonde chick coming to buy her boyfriend a present.

Yeah, because I've seen _so_ many people with that same shade of gold in their hair.

Fuck.

And then, as if to prove that days like Friday the thirteenth existed to make superstitious saps like me absolutely _miserable_, Edward fucking Elric sauntered into the chocolate aisle. I grabbed Sloth's arm out of instinct and pure panic. "Shit, Sloth!" I hissed, shaking her elbow a little.

She looked up at me and raised a sardonic eyebrow. "Yes?" Her voice was tinged with amusement. "You don't like these chocolates?" She held out a bag of mint-flavored Lindt truffles.  
"No, they're disgusting," I replied quickly. "Wait! I mean... look!" I jerked my head over at Edward, who was carrying two bouquets of roses (maybe he had two girlfriends and bought one for each?) and seemed very interested in the Hershey's kisses. Cheap shit, that. "_He's_ here!"

Sloth smiled. "You mean Ed?" At my terse nod, she giggled a little. Actually _giggled_. "And? What? Are you afraid he bites? Or are you afraid he only bites girls?" She giggled even more. I think I threw up a little in my mouth.

"You're a bitch," I told her flatly. "Go flirt with him if you want, but don't drag me into your stupid games." I began to step down the aisle in an effort to escape the ensuing awkward conversation, but Sloth latched onto my elbow and dug in her nails to ensure I wouldn't try tearing my arm out of her grip. Pity - I had almost gotten away.

She gave me a sideways glance. "Come on, En. It's time you got over this silly phobia."

I think I muttered something about the fact that it was neither a phobia nor silly, considering the full-scale humiliation I had faced less than twelve hours before. But my protests didn't matter to Sloth, who yanked my arm so hard that I stumbled as she marched us both over to Edward fucking Elric.

He was checking out the Ghirardelli chocolates too, that bastard. There were only two bags of my precious raspberry-filled squares left.

"Hi, Ed!" Sloth said with a perky tilt of the head. I rolled my eyes and grumbled under my breath about flirting, and her nails tightened on my forearm. "Fancy running into you here," she continued over my wince. Knowing her, the bitch had planned it.

"Hello," Ed said, giving Sloth a half-hearted nod and then seeming to concentrate very hard on the crumpled list in his hand. Honestly, who brings a list to shop for a Valentine's Day gift? But it wasn't my place to judge, I told myself archly, and if Edward fucking Elric wanted to be that much of an idiot, hell, why not? He was already an idiot in everything else. Like relationships. And friends. And thinking my sister might _actually_ have feelings for him.

Sloth didn't seem deterred by her lukewarm reception, much to my dismay. Any normal person would have taken that as an invitation to leave Ed the fuck alone. "So what are you here for?" she asked with a little bounce that drew all eyes in the aisle to her bright pink boobs - Ed's included. I suppressed a sneer of disgust.

"Will you stop already?" I asked her under my breath. She ignored me, simply tightening her grip on my arm.

"My mom," Ed the jerk replied with a smile. I remember in freshman year, the first thing I noticed about him was his smile - but it wasn't like that mattered. He just uses it to charm all his prospective girlfriends.

Sloth raised an eyebrow, but Ed's eyes weren't quite on her face. She really needed something a little less risqué, especially this close to V-day. The amount of male attention she was receiving was getting ridiculous - and I admit, I was a little jealous. Not of _Ed's_ fascination, of course, but really, if you compared my shapeless black t-shirt and baggy pants with her skintight dress (and added the fact that I was a male), I might as well have been dog shit for all the attention I was getting.

"Little Oedipus complex you've got there," she observed. I couldn't help a snicker before I caught myself and turned my glare back on. The summer after sophomore year, Sloth and I tried to delve into Freud. We got about as far as that and his wacky dream interpretations before giving it up for mostly bullshit. And it was - mostly bullshit, I mean. I'm pretty sure Freud needed therapy more than most of his patients... which makes me wonder about the field of psychology as a whole, if their patriarch's that messed up.

Ed the horny bastard looked confused for a minute before relaxing into that easy smile again. Damn him. Right then, I wouldn't have been able to smile if you paid me.

"Nah, Al just assigned me flowers and chocolates this year."

Ah. Al. Alphonse Elric, Edward fucking Elric's younger brother whom I have never met. Apparently he goes to some weird art school and has inherited some seriously weird genes from Ed's absent-minded scientist father. Back when we were psuedo-friends (because I realize now that he probably only talked to me since he thought I was a fucking girl), Ed would have plenty of stories about Al's latest escapade. Like the time he was shopping with Al and his mom, and Al started tap dancing while juggling a pickle jar _and_ singing the Oscar Meyer theme song. ...Maybe that's why Al wasn't with him today.

But whatever. Their conversation was rapidly getting boring. I tuned out, turning and looking across the store. A hassled looking lady with a toddler holding onto each hand was looking at cereals a little way away. The kids were tugging on her arms and talking to her in high, grating voices - she looked like she was trying her best to ignore them.

I wondered if she wanted someone to buy _her_ chocolate. But her day probably didn't suck as much as mine.

...Hey, I never said I wasn't selfish.

Sloth shoved a piece of paper in my face, snapping me out of my self-pitying reverie. I blinked and wordlessly raised an eyebrow. It looked kinda like a shopping list, though the writing was so messy I couldn't begin to guess what it said. And why was this pathetic sample of penmanship smacking me in the nose?

"He sounds like fun," Sloth said in reply to a comment by Ed. I wondered who she was talking about - Al? some other male in Ed's family? blonde Russell? Ling? Roy? Knowing Sloth, it could be _anyone_. I was so utterly lost in the conversation - not that I cared.

Ed made a face. "He's... I guess he's okay. He just tends to be needlessly mortifying at times and he's really, really just the weirdest kid you'll ever meet."

Seemed a lot like Wrath, to me. But apparently Sloth had other ideas. "Really?" she asked, casting a mischevious glance that made me instantly wary. "Actually, that sounds a lot like Envy." She elbowed me, and I glared at her - what the fuck? Where the hell did that come from? "He's seriously weird," Sloth continued. "You know he paints his nails?"

My eyes widened. What the _hell_. Not that it wasn't true - I mean, right then my nails were a rather becoming shade of dark purple - but, seriously. There are some things you don't spout out to random strangers. And in my opinion, Edward fucking Elric was _worse_ than a random stranger. "Fuck you," I spat at her, trying to yank my hand away while curling my fingers into fists to hide my nails. Just in case Ed wanted a glimpse of confirmation so he could really start spreading rumors.

Sloth ignored me. She was getting disturbingly good at it. "Does your brother do that?"

"Uh..." Ed said. His brain probably broke from proximity to the faggot, I thought bitterly, so I was seriously surprised at his next words. "Actually, Winry used to paint mine and Al's nails. Mom threw a fit when she found out, but it wasn't too bad. Winry didn't make us wear pink or anything."

I once painted my nails pink for the hell of it. Fluorescent, neon pink, and I think it glowed in the dark, too - that was the main allure of the polish. I locked myself in the bathroom after it dried and spent five minutes in the dark, waving my hands around so I could see my nails.

It was cool... in a totally lame and dorky way.

"I think she painted Al's a so-called color 'sea foam'," Ed continued, "and she'd always paint mine gold, you know, to match."

Sloth said something about painting Wrath's nails, but I was too shocked to listen to her or even imagine Ed with gold nails (which was, in retrospect, a pretty hilarious image). I was too busy wondering why _Edward fucking Elric_, Ed the bastard, Ed the jerk, would say something like that. It obviously wasn't an effort to flirt with Sloth; if he had really wanted that, he would have gone along with her mockery and bonded over making fun of the homo. Maybe he just wanted to say something interesting... but it wasn't like that. It was almost as if he intended to throw me a lifeline –

I bit my lip. Once again, the conversation was moving on without me. It was beginning to get even more uncomfortable, being a forced eavesdropper at my half-sister's flirt fest. When Ed stopped talking for a few seconds to scan the rows of chocolate, I desperately grasped for an escape route.

There was a good excuse; I know there was - something that would have gotten me out of Sloth's grip and into fresh air or at least another part of the store. But when I saw Ed grab the _last two_ packs of raspberry chocolates, a few peanut butters, and a caramel to boot, my mind went blank. I said the first thing that came to mind. It was pathetically idiotic.  
"Hey, isn't, uh, Mom waiting for us? Shouldn't we get going?" I shifted awkwardly from foot to foot, praying she would go along with my obvious plea.

Of course, I shouldn't have expected her to give up the opportunity to continue torturing me. "Stop that, En," she replied dismissively. You know she's on a date with Dad. And Wrath's at a friend's, so don't try to use him as an excuse either."

I blushed - gee, thanks Sloth, way to make my transparent excuse a nonexistent one and embarrass me in the process.

But for some reason, Ed seemed determined to keep up the rapidly faltering conversation. "So," he said, shifting the basket on his hip in a totally womanly way. "Er, Sloth... What brought you here tonight?"

I could feel Sloth's mild amusement through the nails that were currently gouging crescents in my arm. "Chocolate," she replied smoothly. "Just like you."

Okay. Okay. This conversation had died, and any of Ed the idiot's persistent attempts to raise it from its grave were bound to be unsuccessful. I tapped my foot and looked back at the cereal aisle, but the woman had gone. I wondered what kind of cereal she bought and whether her kids had shut up to give her a bit of peace and quiet.

"Did you hear that Hughes is going to try and put on a match-up dance?" Ed said suddenly, almost desperately. "And he's trying to make it mandatory to go with your top match or something."

My head whirled around so fast that I think I might've gotten whiplash, or at least some kind of crick in my neck. I felt the blood rush to my face, which merely made me more embarrassed, and I gritted my teeth. "Like hell," I spat, the first time I had talked to Edward fucking Elric directly for the duration of the limping conversation.

Ed's eyes widened. As if he didn't know what he had said.

Sloth's grin brightened even more. Previously, I hadn't thought that was possible. "So you guys will be going together?" she asked, sounding way too happy. I glared at her for a minute, then decided I could deal with her later and transferred my glare back to Ed. He was bright red. Tch. Like the match-up had embarrassed him as much as it had embarrassed me.

...Once again, I have never in my life claimed that I wasn't self-centered.

Idiot Ed stuttered out some kind of dumb excuse. I was so focused on glaring at him (sending my laser vision death rays right into his brain, yeah) that I actually forgot to listen. Not like it mattered. Sloth made her expected de facto protest (so she's a bisexual chick with a tendency for lesbian porn and a fetish for gay men...?) and before Ed could really reply, a taller blonde yelled to him from the end of the aisle. His hair was a darker shade and his eyes, from what I could see in the fluorescent lighting, were also darker. Ed's brother Al, then, whom I was seeing for the first time?

Ed glanced from his brother to Sloth and I. His cheeks were still red. "Bye, Sloth," he said to my sister. And then he tried on a hesitant smile, looking me in the eye, _really_ looking at me, for the first time in two years. "Bye, Envy."

I don't know what kind of expression I had when I met his eyes, but my stomach turned over uncomfortably and I was glad when he hurried down the aisle to rejoin his brother.

---

Sloth ended up buying the stupid mint truffles because Ed had taken the last of the raspberry Ghiradellis, ensuring that I returned home more discontented than when I left. It was harder to get to sleep than I thought it would be. When I finally curled up in my pajamas and closed my eyes, the darkness of my bedroom seemed to envelop and suffocate me. I kept thinking of Roy's face when I slapped the chocolates out of his hand, the enigmatic look in Ed's eyes when he smiled me, and Sloth's offhanded comment as I got in the car - "I can't take you anywhere, can I?"

As I tossed and turned, getting tangled in the sheets and wishing I had some chocolate or, in lieu of that, a sleeping pill, one persistent thought kept cropping up in my head - an answer to my English class, to Roy, to Ed, and most especially to Sloth.  
"It's not as if _I'm_ the one with the issues."

---

I don't know _what_ the hell I dreamt about, but I woke around seven-thirty in a cold sweat, gripping the fabric of my pillowcase like I was trying to strangle it. It took me a few minutes to regain my bearings - right, you're in bed after sleeping off what was possibly the worst day of your existence - and then wished I hadn't.

My first thought: _Well, shit_.

And my second thought - probably because my dream had something to do with Roy, I think: _He probably hates me now._ And, putting myself in his place, I could definitely see why. After all, he had come to _apologize_. He was practically on his knees, begging me for forgiveness, and I rejected him. Hell, I hit the damn chocolates out of his hand. And he meant his apology, he really did.

I buried my head in my pillow and moaned. Gah. It was way too early for any of this.  
Later, at a more decent hour, I told Sloth the gist of my predicament. She gave me a pitying look. "So it's Valentine's Day and you're stuck without your favorite chocolate _and_ your boyfriend?"

"Roy's not my boyfriend," I replied, running my hand through my tousled hair and slumping lower in my seat. It was already nearly eleven and I was still in my pajama boxers and an overlarge t-shirt. I liked it because the big sleeves made my arms look even skinnier and it was dark blue, which set off my paleness. I like to look good when I'm asleep, too. But regardless –

"Well, you two act like it sometimes," she said, tossing a stray strand of hair over her shoulder. She had recently shampooed, and so it still smelled like honey or amber - some kind of smooth, golden scent. I used to borrow it in freshman year because it reminded me of Edward fucking Elric. And I think I told him that once. But now I have my own favorite scents - sometimes lavender, sometimes raspberry - and I don't have to raid her beauty products anymore. ...Not that I would touch that stupid shampoo with a ten-foot pole, now.

I stuck out my tongue as she took another bite of her sandwich. She shot me a sideways glance and finished chewing. "Well... can't you call him? Go over to his house? Apologize for not accepting his apology?" She laughed a little.

"But what if he doesn't want to see me?" I groaned and slumped even further in the bar stool. "Like, I was a total _bitch_ to him, Sloth. You weren't there. You didn't see. But I was like... I dunno. It was bad. I feel like shit."

She quirked an eyebrow. "I'm sure it wasn't _that_ bad..." she said. A pause. "Was it?"

"I don't know. Maybe. But I feel really, _really _bad. And I don't know if he's mad at me or not..." If anything, Roy had looked shocked when I hit his hand and the package of chocolates skidded across the floor. And before that, he had looked stressed. Because he really felt bad. And I was a bitch.

Even if he deserved it, I was a bitch.

Sloth finished her sandwich then sighed. "Just _call_ him," she said, sounding exasperated. "He has caller ID, right? If he doesn't want to talk to you, he just won't pick up. Simple."

I looked at her and bit my lip. Yeah, it was simple. Really simple. But I couldn't help but worry - what if he didn't pick up at all?

Growing impatient at my hesitation, Sloth rolled her eyes and stood. "I know where you keep your phone, En. If you don't get over there soon, I'll call him for you."

"No!" I yelled, nearly falling out of my seat. Given the earlier fiasco with Ed, I had no doubt that she would keep her word. "No," I said again, regaining some of my composure. "I'm just going to shower and get dressed. And then I'm calling him, I promise." And then I'm hiding my phone somewhere else, I told myself.

The nice thing about having the only bedroom in the lowest floor of the house is that I get a bathroom all to myself. I mean, okay, sometimes I have to share it with Wrath, but at least he doesn't shower in it. So when there are long dark hairs on the shower floor, I know they're mine. They're still gross, but they're mine. Which makes it a little more okay.

I had forgotten how much I smelled like tobacco and Kimbley until I stepped out of the shower smelling like lavender and soap. It was so nice to feel clean, too - the grittiness from smoke and grime and too many tears had been washed away and replaced with a refreshing calm.

Don't I sound like a soap commercial?

Anyway, I decided to leave out my contacts - I had slept wearing them, cried wearing them, been exposed to secondhand smoke wearing them... I figured it was about time for a break. So after I had put on black cargo pants (normally I don't like baggy clothes but they were snug on my hips and it was easy to relax in them), a white collared shirt, and a gray sweater vest, I dug around for my glasses, washed them, and put them on. Looking in the mirror, I looked like some kind of slacker librarian, especially with my hair hanging sleek and straight because I didn't want to waste time styling it.

But enough about my appearance; I think I've indulged my vanity plenty for today. And I haven't even told you about my love affair with mirrors.

My phone was resting on my bedside table and I picked it up nervously. This was - more or less - the moment of truth. It was nearly one o'clock now, and Roy _had_ to be awake and out of bed. If he were out of the house, he'd have his phone with him. Most likely. And if he were still at home, he'd have it nearby, right?

Right. I swallowed as I pressed down on 7. Roy's number, speed dial - remember? There was a breathless moment as it rang and I tapped my fingers nervously against my thigh. He wasn't mad at me. I had good reason to be mad. He had to understand... right?

When he answered on the third ring, my knees went weak. "_Hello_?"

"Oh, Roy, hi, it's - um, it's me. Um, Envy." As if he needed to know that, you idiot, I told myself.

"_Hi_," he said, sounding strangely surprised. "_Look, um, this is kind of a -_"

I didn't want to wait to hear what he had to say. I had an apology to make, and nothing was going to stop me. "Look Roy, I'm really - hey, are you at your house?" Since he was fine answering the phone when I called, it obviously meant he wasn't too mad at me. And - I don't know if it was my dream or what, but I felt _so_ bad.

(Of course, my sudden adamancy might have also been related to the hope that Roy had kept his raspberry Ghirardellis and would be kind enough to share. But that was all subconscious, really...)

"_Yes, but -_"

"Okay." It was a split second decision, but I was going through with it. "I'm coming over to your house."

"_Envy, you really shouldn't -_"

"No, look. I feel like such an asshole, okay? You tried to apologize and I was such a bitch. And now I'm apologizing. I want to see you, okay? I want to apologize to your face."

"_No, Envy, I really don't think_ -"

"No. Roy. I want to. I'm doing this."

"_You really don't want to come over right now. I'm _-"

"Do you have a date?"

"_...Well, no, not tech-_"

"Okay then. I was a jerk and I am going to come over there and apologize. And then we can hang out. Okay?"

"_Look, it's really_ -"

I hung up, thinking that Roy was just embarrassed because of his behavior; that he would feel awkward seeing me. And, you know, I was feeling pretty great about myself, that I would take the time and the effort to drive all the way to Roy's house to repair our friendship.

In retrospect, that was one of the worst decisions I could have possibly made.

---

Sloth was still at the counter when I went into the kitchen to grab the car keys. "If you're taking the Jag," she said without preamble, "can you go pick up Wrath at three?"  
I looked at her, the keys dangling from my fingers.

"Dad took him to that ice cream place where he likes to hang out. Manfred's. Manny's. Something." For all his posturing about safety and security, daddy-Pride had the weirdest habit of dropping off Wrath (and Selim) at random locations around town, unsupervised and unaccompanied. He said it built character - I figured he was just lazy and wanted to dispose of them for a few hours.

"Manny's," I said, still staring at her. "You know that's on the complete opposite side of town, right?"

"Yeah?" She tapped her nails against the countertop. They were bright red and made little clicking noises. The gouges she had made in my arm last night had turned red and would probably scar - bitch. "You want my car, you run my errands."

I ran a frustrated hand through my hair, disheveling it even further, and pushed up my glasses. I could have argued, but I wanted to get to Roy's house as quickly as possible - it was already nearly two-thirty. And winning an argument with Sloth was like rolling a boulder uphill - sure, you could get it there eventually, but in the interim it would take a whole lot of help. And maybe a bulldozer.

"Fine," I said, and the metaphorical boulder stayed put. "But don't pull a bitch fit if I'm late to get him. Tell him I'll come at three-thirty, or something."

She just smiled.

Since I mostly went out with Sloth (who always drove) or Roy (who would pick me up in his car), I wasn't really used to driving. I had my provisional licence, though, which would turn into a legit license sometime in April when I turned seventeen. And Sloth's silver Jaguar wasn't that hard to drive at all - if you kept in mind the whup-ass acceleration and the way the stick shift tended to get stuck in neutral. Otherwise, it was a pretty sexy car.

Roy doesn't live too far away; it takes maybe ten minutes for me to drive to his house (fifteen in bad traffic). And, surprisingly, Valentine's day was sunny and clear, with sixty degree temperatures that were balmy for February.

I kept my sweater on because I can't stand the cold. Still, it was a refreshing change from yesterday's frigid gloom. Made me begin to hope that my life would parallel the weather and that the day, despite being V-day, could turn out well.

You should already know that when people think things like that, they usually turn out to be _way_ wrong.

As I pulled into Roy's driveway, I noticed a car parked on the street. Company, probably, for Momma Mustang, who was quite active in her (Mormon) church group and always had a smiling, prim lady (or ladies) over to tea. I was glad I had worn decent clothing; I knew his parents approved of me but walking in dressed like a punk-styled girl might be pushing it.

The Mustangs' lawn was as nice as ever, even though the wintertime grass was yellowing and dead, and I brushed my hand along the white picket fence as I approached their front door - a silent prayer for both luck and normality. I would need both, probably, for this conversation.

Taking a deep breath, I knocked on the door, ignoring the doorbell - Roy always said he hated the little chiming noises it made. There was no response for a while and I gulped and began to fidget, shifting from foot to foot and gripping my right wrist tightly with the fingers of the other hand. When the door finally opened, I nearly hyperventilated with relief.

"Roy!" I said desperately when I caught sight of his dark hair, messy since it was the weekend and he wasn't trying to impress any girls.

He opened the door a little wider. "Envy," he said, giving me a smile that looked tired, relieved, and strained at the same time. He was wearing a baggy red plaid shirt - his lumberjack shirt, he always said when I made fun of him for it - with a white undershirt and jeans. I forced a nervous smile.

"Nice outfit."

He raised an eyebrow at my unusually subdued attire. "And you," he said, his smile turning into the oh-so-familiar smirk.

Upon seeing that expression, I took an involuntary step forward. "Look, Roy, I am such a _shit_. I mean, I was mad and I know it was okay that I was mad but I know you felt bad for being such an ass and I really should have accepted your apology and I'm not mad any more - at you, anyway, because you apologized, and I -"

Roy cut me off by placing a heavy hand on the top of my head. I blinked. "You know, you look really different with your glasses."

I blinked again. "Do I really?"

"Yeah," he said, nodding. "You're... less punk. Softer." His smirk widened. "Vulnerable."

I felt myself blushing. "Is that a good thing?" I began, then realized what he was trying to do and shoved his hand away. "Don't distract me!" I snapped, half joking and half not. "I was trying to apologize, jackass!" Using my vanity against me; what a jerk.

When Roy shrugged, I finally recalled the fact that he couldn't stand apologies. "Not like you need to," he replied with forced nonchalance.

For a moment, I hovered in indecision. If I let it go, things would get back to normal, sure, but there would always be that nagging feeling about what we had done to each other. That lack of forgiveness, of closure, really. And even if the hurt would still be there after I said I forgave him and after I apologized, we would get over it. After freshman year, I learned that was the most important part about ending something - even though I never really finished everything with Ed.

And no matter _what_, Roy was not going to become another Edward fucking Elric.  
He was retreating into his house; I grabbed his wrist and looked up six inches (our height difference) into his eyes. "Just let me get this over with, okay?" He waited, his smirk fading. I gulped. I think I hate apologies almost as much as Roy does, actually. "I'm just really fucking sorry, okay?"

"You know, I'm really the one that should be saying something like that," Roy said, giving me a wry grin. I grinned back, going weak-kneed with inexplicable relief. I think I would have hugged him then, except for something that, given _my_ luck, I should have expected.

Someone else was coming towards the door. I blinked. Was that - was that _blonde_?!

"Hey, Roy," Ed said, "are you going to..." His voice trailed off as we stared at each other for a moment, stupefied, before my mind shifted into high gear. It was Ed. Edward _fucking_ Elric, at Roy's house. Walking around like he belonged. Like they were _friends_. Like Edward fucking Elric was friends with _my_ Roy Mustang.

Ed looked nearly as surprised as I was - which was bull_shit_, considering the fact that I am Roy's best friend and there's no reason why I couldn't show up at his house when I felt like it. "Uh..." He looked like he was going to say something. I didn't want to hear it. I felt my expression change to my Edward Elric death glare (trademark) and snatched my fingers away from Roy's wrist. Bastard.

I was actively trying not to look at Roy's face, but I'm pretty sure he had an 'oh shit' look. Like a husband whose wife has caught him in bed with the mistress. He tried grabbing for my hand. I took a step backwards. "Look," he began, pleading.

"Fuck you!" I yelled. The last thing I wanted to do was _look_. "If you want to fuck around with Edward fucking Elric, be my _guest_!" I turned on my heel and made my way down the driveway, feeling tears prickle in my eyes.

"He's not!" Ed shouted from behind me. "We're not! It's just a study gig!"

Like I actually thought they would be fucking. It's an expression, dumbass. Keeping my back as straight as possible, I marched to the Jag and climbed in, hoping that I could actually drive through the veil of tears that was obscuring my vision.


	8. Chapter 8

AN by indigo's ocean: So I think this chapter is brilliant. I mean, I think pretty much every chapter PFF writes is brilliant, but this is - this is… hahaha. When you get to _the_ part, the one that makes it so much more absolutely brilliant than the rest, you'll know. I think you'll know what I'm talking about when you read it, but don't you dare skip ahead!

Regardless. Hmm, something to talk about… What I like about writing a collaboration like this is that we each have our own characters, and then shared characters. Envy is mine, Kimbley is mine. Roy used to be mine but now we share him (though I roleplayed him for the major conversation in this chapter); Sloth belongs to PFF but I have to write her. And then Ed, Russell, and Winry belong to her. Ling, we share. I like Ling. I also like lip piercings. Dunno if I've ever mentioned it, but Envy's whole piercing fetish… yeah. That was inspired by me.

NOTE: Since Potions for Foxes is a senior in high school this year and needs to work on getting into college and further in life (yay!), the story will be proceeding slower due to her issues with school, college, money, and GPA dependent scholarships, along with an aversion to UC Santa Cruz. I have AP tests and finals coming up soon, too, so I guess this is for the best. Hopefully this chapter will tide you guys over until we update again.

Chapter by Potions For Foxes:

**Stupid Cupid**

_(quit hitting on me)_

Chapter Eight

I was dreaming. Why else would Sloth hold a voodoo doll version of her brother, already stuck with pins? She blinked and thick black tears oozed down her face. All I could think about was that Goths would kill to be able to do that. I glanced around, looking for an explanation of sorts, or anything. The room was misty at the corners. I turned back to Sloth.

'Go on,' she said, offering me a pin. 'Stick it in, it's fun.'

I didn't move. Sloth lifted a dainty hand, clad in black lace, to light a set of large, thick candles. She dropped the long match to the ground, but nothing burned. The cloying scent of incense filled the room.

'Do!' Sloth said, again repeating her request.

I looked at the Envy doll. Something about the eyes, purple buttons, bothered me. The glinted too much in the dim light and, when the candles flickered, they almost looked real.

I shook my head. I couldn't do it.

'You won't?' Sloth asked, cocking her head to the side. Oh, that's too bad, if you won't play with me, I guess I'll have to play with you.

I didn't understand. I shrugged and turned to walk out of the room, only to find I couldn't. There were no doors or even walls really. Stuff just became indistinct and gray after a while. I tried walking into one of the indistinct areas, only to re-enter the place from a different side.

'What are you playing at!' I yelled at Sloth.

She giggled and wiped her lips on her glove. Black lipstick smeared across her cheek.

'O, Edward,' she said, pulling something from her pockets. 'You're being absolutely no fun. But I'll change that. If you won't play with me, you'll play with Envy.'

Oh fuck, I thought, realizing that she must have a voodoo doll of me in her clutches, I am so screwed.

'Ah! Here you are,' she said excitedly. 'Now let's go play with En. Where is he? En? En!'

Envy materialized quickly. His face was neutral but he scowled when he saw me. My heart clenched. Shouldn't he be more upset with Sloth? I was in the same situation he was in. Should he at least be able to sympathize with me?

'Hmm, no, that won't do,' Sloth muttered. 'You have to be happy to see Edward. You should feel something tingling in your chest.'

She sprinkled sand on the doll's chest. Envy looked revolted.

'Or maybe,' Sloth hissed evilly. Her features darkened and I wondered how I could've thought her pretty. Her mouth twisted into a vicious smile. She looked cruel. 'Since nobody seems interested in playing nice, you should fight. Edward, punch Envy.'

She didn't move the doll.

Envy flinched.

'No.'

Sloth looked puzzled.

'Do it.' She repeated.

'No'.

'Edward.' It was Envy. 'You might as well do it, I don't mind. It's better not to resist her.'

'Edward, I'm warning you.'

She punched Envy's doll with mine.

I resisted. Instantly, shooting pain filled my arm. It felt like it was molten, on fire, stabbed with white hot pins, both, all three, it hurt. Still, I didn't move. I should just punch him, he doesn't mind, but… but it's not fair.

'That's not that answer,' Sloth shrieked. Her black nail resembled talons. Envy cowered. 'Find the reason and the spell is broken.

I can't punch Envy because it's like hitting a girl (only I know that's a lie). He's weak and pathetic and he won't hit me back. The pain increased suddenly. I'm a stubborn bastard and I don't want to do what someone tells me too.

'What if I do this,' Sloth said and she moved a lighter close to the doll Envy's hair. She clicked it a few times.

'NO!' I lunged for her. I couldn't move.

'So,' she said, lips carefully forming the cruel words. 'It doesn't have to do with you.'

I don't know.

'Hint,' Sloth said, you don't think it's possible.

Envy looked at me, hopeful, longing, curious.

I can't—he's just—It's—I can't hit that—he's—I-I—I lo

I clapped my hands over my mouth.

Envy perked up. Sloth smiled. 'Continue,' she said. 'You lo—?'

"I DON'T LOVE ENVY!" I shouted. Sheba glared at me from across the room. Apparently my shouting had woken her up. I looked around. I was in my bed. The lights were off. Everyone was asleep. The driveway glowed white through my window, even with the blinds drawn it illuminated my room.

The house was silent. No one seemed to have heard my shout. I rolled over and looked at my clock.

3:00 am.

I blinked.

3:01 AM.

It was three in the fucking morning and I was awake.

I shuddered as I remembered the dream. Definitely better to be awake than continue with that. Still, tomorrow was February the 14th, no easy day. Surviving that day, and all the emotional landmines it included, required me to be awake and alert.

---

Valentines Day dawned bright and clear. Sunlight streamed in through my window and a small bird chirped brightly in the tree. I groaned and rolled over. Al had been in my room already (as evidenced by the sunlight). He'd drawn back my drapes and raised the blinds, figuring that the light would eventually wake me. I glanced at the clock. 7:00 AM.

I moaned and slumped back amongst the pillows. It was way too earlier to be conscious on a Saturday morning. Especially after the worst Friday of my life.

"Ed!" Al said as he bounced into my room. I glared at him. He was disgustingly cheerful in the morning. "Wake up!"

"No," I said and pulled the pillow over my ears. I flopped back down on the bed and tried to pretend that Al wasn't there, smiling at me.

"Get up!" Al whined. He shifted his weight from side to side. "Mom won't let me go downstairs until you're up." He paused as if considering something. "You're real lucky that Dad and I decorated everything after you went to bed."

I sighed and faced the wall. Valentines Day was off to a rocky start.

"Oh!" Al said, acting as if he had just remembered something. I braced myself for something awful. He was never good at feigning innocence. "Who were those two girls you were talking to in the store?"

"Get out!" I shouted at Al, lunging for him. He jumped back and smirked as I fell to the ground with a thump, legs tangled in the sheets.

"Have fun with that," he said. "Oh," he threw a vivid red shirt at me. "Mom wanted you to wear something festive. Don't worry, Winry picked it out." I groaned as I picked it up. A red plaid shirt. Joy. Of course Winry would pick something like this. Al rummaged threw my drawers and threw a couple more articles of clothing at me. "Here, wear the tan cargo pants, oh! Look, heart covered boxers—"

"Al," I said, still struggling with the sheets. "You're in my room."

"This makes a nice undershirt," Al said, nimbly dodging my hand when I tried to grab his ankle.

"Al, go away," I muttered, waving my hand vaguely at him.

"Ed, just get up," Al said. "I'm not above sicking Sheldon on you."

"I'm up, I'm up, I'm up," I grumbled, pawing at my clothes. "No need to call the dogs."

"Good," he said, but didn't leave. I glared at him.

"Al," I said, yanking off the faded Shins concert t-shirt I'd slept in. Not that I'd, you know, been to their concert or anything. No, I'd gotten sick with the flu the night before and my mom refused to let me 'infect masses of innocent people.' Though I think she was afraid that I'd do something real stupid, like get my date pregnant.

Not that I could, seeing as it was Envy who invited me. But we didn't know that at the time. I sighed. Envy had been so embarrassed when he gave me the shirt, she—_he'd_ looked really upset, blushed, looked at his feet, and mumbled something about how it was the only shirt left and he was sorry it was an extra large.

I didn't catch most of his garbled apology, so I just smiled and said something stupid, like 'I'll wear it while I'm sleeping.'

"Why do you wear that thing?" Al asked, pointing at the Shins shirt. "It's huge and ratty."

"Shut up," I said, pulling on the red t-shirt. "I like the Shins and it's _signed_. By all of them."

Yeah, Envy somehow neglected to mention that when he gave me the shirt. I ran my thumb over the signatures. My reaction when I saw the writing was, in retrospect, somewhat hilarious. I think I said "It's signed?!? ARE YOU SERIOUS!" and hugged him. Poor Envy, he must've been so embarrassed. I didn't care or anything. I mean, he'd just given me a signed Shins shirt. I would've hugged Russell, Ling, or Winry in the same manly, no sexual attraction way I hugged Envy.

"Still an ugly shirt," Al said, looking pointedly away as I changed into the boxers Al had discovered. _Those _were a product of drunk shopping with Winry after Valentines Day, Freshman year. Ling's dad was out of town for the weekend and we took advantage of the lack of parental supervision (his mom had a bunch of friends over and _they_ got smashed), his dad's vodka, and the Yao family's driver.

"Alright, Al," I said standing up. "I'm dressed. Are you happy now?"

"Good," he said, "Now hurry up."

"Fine," I said and followed him downstairs.

Mom greeted us at the second landing. Al scowled. Apparently his word alone wasn't considered trustworthy.

"Good morning Ed," Mom said, smiling. Al kicked at the railing. I wondered what he thought he was getting for Valentines Day. The "surprise" for Mom wasn't that spectacular. Unless, Dad and Al had gone overboard on the decorations. That could be interesting. Especially because Al has weird taste and Dad is practically colorblind.

"Good morning, Mom," I said and smiled. It was such a beautiful day. I should really be running. I briefly wondered if these thoughts were normal. Beautiful equals running, not just enjoying the beautiful day? However, with my luck, any psychologist I got would be an avid marathon runner.

"We have cinnamon rolls for breakfast," Mom said, gracefully descending the stairs. She's wearing her pretty purple and green floral dress today. It's breezy and fluttery, perfect for the day. I glared at Al. I had this sneaking suspicion that Mom didn't care if I dressed "festively" or not. Winry had probably slipped him a twenty to throw that shirt at me.

She thinks I look good in red.

I think she's nuts.

When we entered the kitchen, Dad was there, smiling. Mom hid a grin behind her hand. I looked at them then at the table. Al squealed. There was a large box on the table, with a bright red ribbon tied around it. The box had air holes in it.

"Can I open it! Can I, can I, can I?" Al asked, bouncing up and down. Dad smirked.

"Not until you've eaten breakfast," Mom said smiling. Al's face fell. I walked over to the package of cinnamon rolls and grabbed the one with the most frosting, the one in the middle. I put it on a plate and opened the microwave, then jabbed at the numbers.

"Just kidding!" Dad said, grinning manically. I jumped and accidentally added thirty seconds to the time.

I turned around to see Al tearing into the box. He lifted up the occupant of the box and revealed it to be a … kitten.

My parents just got my brother a kitten.

Are you kidding me? The last thing we need around here is another cat.

"Ed," Dad said, "Aren't you going to open your present?"

"Mrrphfff?"

"Swallow that, honey," Mom said.

"Huh?"

"Your present," Dad said, shoving in front of me. "Open it."

"I'm eating," I protested. I held up part of the cinnamon roll. "Eating."

"Open it."

"Eating."

"Open it," Dad said, glaring at me. "Open it so your mother will open hers."

"Eating?"

"Ed," Al said, looking away from his new charge. "Maybe it's a new piercing."

I raised my eyebrow. "Really? The box is obviously too big for that."

"Well, maybe they're trying to trick you."

"What's this about a piercing?" Mom said coming over. "Ed's not getting another one, is he?"

"No," I said, "I am not… yet."

"Open it," Dad said.

"Fine!"

I tore open the silly heart paper.

It was an Asics box.

I opened the lid.

AWESOME!

The new Asics Turbo High Jump Spikes! They were a beautiful gray, with dark orange shiny stuff on them. And they were so awesome. I curled my toes. The spikes were so epic and long and sharp and dangerous—perfect for traction and threatening random distance runners (ie. Russell). I could not wait to jump in these babies. Track season was going to be so good.

I grinned and looked up at Mom and Dad. This was seriously perfect. This meant that there was no way I could do distance or anything. Not with these spikes. Plus, the spikes themselves were bitchin'.

Al was still in raptures about the kitten. It was a small black and white kitten with beady green eyes, razor sharp teeth and claws, and a taste for world domination—sorry, I just hate kittens. Sheba is the only cat for me, and if she wasn't beautiful, gorgeous, vicious, and bitchy, chances are I wouldn't like her either. Of course, she's a cat, so she'd probably end up worming her way into my life, regardless.

But I digress. Al's kitten looks like Hitler. I don't think he's noticed it yet.

Sheldon whined and scratched at the door. He looked at Al's prized possession eagerly. I sighed. I _knew_ I was going to be treating Sheldon's nose for kitten scratches this evening. He was completely incapable of not sticking his nose into everything, no matter how dangerous said thing was. The encounter with the porcupine was particularly memorable.

The surprising thing is, the porcupine was the least bad thing that happened on the family vacation. Al died his hair lime puke (_accidentally_ at a friend's house) and was experimenting with blue mascara. And no, Mom wouldn't just make him stop because it was 'just a stage, he'll grow out of it if we let him continue it. If he thinks he's rebelling he'll just continue.' My mom can take the fun out of harmless rebellion like no other mother. Too bad she didn't consider my piercings to be harmless. Unfortunately, the reaction of Dad and I more than made up for Mom's non-reaction.

Dad spent the whole vacation wincing. I had to be forcibly dragged into the necessary photos.

We camped in this beautiful spot. No one else had camped anywhere near it.

This was possibly because it was in the middle of a poison ivy grove, a skunk enclave, and there was a nest of bees in the trees. The bees were actually the least of our problems, or well, actually, they _would've _been the least of our problems if Al didn't suffer from Apiophobia, the _irrational _fear of bees. I say this because Al is not allergic and has never been stung by a bee.

Thus the bees really were the beginnings of our problems.

Did I mention there were mosquitoes?

"I'm going to go take Sheldon for a run," I said, walking over to the get the leash.

"You're going to change into actual running clothes, right Ed," Al said, tearing himself away from his Kitler—kitten to look at me. I glared at him.

"Of course I'm going to do that," I said. "I'm not stupid."

"Good," Al said before turning back to his cute version of the Fuher. "You're so cute and cuddly…"

I sighed and ran up the stairs. Life on the third floor sucks.

After the run, I drove over to Roy's house for our usual AP Chem study … _thing_. It was not a shindig. I don't even know how it started occurring. Just that we were lab partners and I'd missed a few days early in the year and he'd offered to help. I'd been a bit surprised, I mean, Envy's best (only) friend? But Roy's actually a pretty cool person. He'd totally join Ling, Russell, and I in our Supreme Masters of Rix Lore status, if it wasn't for the fact that Envy, you know, hated Rix.

Roy's mother was always thrilled to see me. Thrilled in a quiet way, as both she and her husband were extremely quiet mellow people and I had a hard time believing Roy was actually their son. I mean, he's this hippy dude who plays the guitar and all and they're these nice quiet people who are just so kind.

They live in a house with an honest to God white picket fence.

The lawn is perfect.

The flowerbeds are pristine.

It's like the friggin' Stepford neighborhood, only Mrs. Mustang isn't a weird creepy robot. They're really just that _nice_. Which begs the question, where the hell did Roy come from? I mean, not that I don't like him, but he's just so obviously not their child.

And yet, he totally looks like them, it's the weirdest thing.

I parked Mom's car in the drive, grabbed the Book of Death (the AP Chem book), various papers, my calculator, a pencil, and walked up to Roy's door. I paused on the front porch. I'm never sure how to address myself to Roy's parents or really, Roy himself. I've known most of my other friends since forever and even the new friends aren't this awkward.

Maybe it's because there's this undeniable tension due to the fact that Envy hates me and is Roy's best friend.

Yeah, so I'm never really sure how much Envy goes off about me to Roy or Roy's parents (which I don't think is likely). But still, I always feel like I'm, I dunno, trespassing by being friends with Roy. Which is stupid because he's a nice guy and Russell, Ling, Roy, and I all get along and since when does Envy decide who I get to be friends with?

I rang the doorbell.

Roy opened the door quickly.

"Hey," he said, glaring at me.

"Hi," I said.

"Envy hates me," he said, without a preamble. He opened the door so I could come in. I glanced up at Roy. He looked pretty upset. Though, Envy does have some pretty good reasons, like being humiliated in front of the entire English class. That would be one. And then there are the rumors, all those nasty rumors.

"Well," I said, untying my shoelaces. "Why would that be?"

"Why do you think?" he asked before closing the door. He completely missed the fact that it was a rhetorical question and the sarcasm. "Kitchen? Mom's claimed the living room."

"Sure," I said and followed Roy into the kitchen. When we're in the kitchen, we normally study at the table. But his book and papers weren't there.

"Wait here," Roy said, gesturing to a chair before disappearing. I set my stuff down, ready to get to work. Sunlight streamed in through the window, the lacey curtains making intricate shadows across the floor. Roy, with his sad eyes and dejected slouch, looked completely out of place in the cheery kitchen. I sighed. I had this awful, sinking feeling that I was about to get more involved in the Roy-Envy drama than I ever wanted.

Roy returned with his Chem book and binder,

"Sorry about the, uh, cleanliness," he says. His room is kept deliberately messy, to spite his parents or something. He looked at me. I shrugged.

"So...."

"So, Chapter Twelve, Chemical Kinetics," I said, smiling widely in false excitement.

"Joy," Roy said sarcastically. I grinned. No more talk about Envy! Yes! Then his face fell again. "Do you think he seriously hates me?"

I resisted the urge to slam my head against the Chem book. How the fuck was I supposed to know what Envy thought? He _never_, and I mean never, spoke to me. He just glared, _all the time_. In fact, last night, when he said 'like Hell' after I stupidly brought up the whole match-up things, might've been the first words he said to me since freshman fucking year.

Wait, nope. He told me to 'fuck off' sophomore year when I tried to apologize and help him up after Lyra shoved him into the mud. All I did was offer to help him up, that was it. Then, because I can't stop doing stupid things when I'm around him, I said 'Look, Envy, you don't have to be so fucking hostile I didn't mean to—'

Apparently that was the wrong thing to say, as Envy just went off and completely cussed me out and called me short and that's when Mr. Rix showed up and we both got detention, _together_.

And Roy's asking _me _if Envy hates him?

"Uh," I said "Well, Roy, if he spends all his free time glaring at you and never says anything, then yes, he hates you."

"Geez," Roy said. "No reason to be so hostile. And I haven't even seen him since yesterday." He sighed. "He hasn't even texted me once."

I don't have a clue what to say. I am not the Envy expert.

"Have you tried calling him?" I asked, figuring it was a safe query.

"No," Roy said, looking away. I fought the urge to roll my eyes.

"Then how do you know he won't talk to you if you haven't called him?" I asked, flipping through the pages in the Chem book.

"Because he didn't want me to apologize to him!" Roy snapped. He ran a hand through his hair. "I still have his stupid chocolates too! He didn't even want those and they're his favorite." He slumped in his seat, the picture of rejection.

I twirled my ponytail around my finger. I didn't feel like braiding my hair today.

"Maybe he was just really upset that day," I said. "It's a possibility that after the whole English thing, and then him going AWOL for most of the day, that he was pretty upset and reacted in ways that he may in fact have come to regret owing to the fact that he was upset and he looked real run-down too. I don't think he likes Valentine's Day very much." I am such an awesome bull-shitter sometimes. It's part of the reason I'm getting an A in Rix's class. Of course, he calls it 'clear thinking on the spot' but we all know that's BS. "What'd you get on problem forty-six?"

"No he doesn't..." Roy sighed. "I got rate equal to k times the concentration of CH3COCH3, 8.7 ten to the negative third power seconds and 1.6 ten to the negative fifth Moles per second. That what you got?"

"Yes," I said, checking my answer. "That's what I got."

"Great..." Roy said unenthusiastically. He stared out the window.

I sighed. This was possibly the least productive we'd ever been. Except for that one time we decided to try baking sugar cookies. I'll never forget the look on Roy's face as he removed the still-whirling eggbeaters from the bowl of batter just as his mom walked in. Come to think of it, her face was pretty priceless also.

Roy shook his head. "Sorry. It's just bugging me. I was such an idiot…" He looked back at his paper.

"You know, if you'd just waited a couple more seconds Sloth or hell, Winry even, would've done the job for you," I said, awkwardly patting Roy on the back.

"Yeah, but I still said it first. And I'm his best friend." He slumped again. "Thanks, though."

"Err, yeah, no problem," I said, flicking my tongue against my front teeth. It made a clicking noise that drew Roy's attention. He looked at me and raised an eyebrow.

"What's that?" he asked curiously.

"Huh? Oh, that," I said. "It's my piercing. Wanna see?"

Roy looked skeptical. "....Sure."

I grinned widely and stuck my tongue out. It's a weekend, so I have my plain metal barbell into today instead of the tongue-colored plastic thing that I wear on school days. Personally, I think the steel is much … sexier than just plain plastic. Plus, you can actually see it.

Roy whistled appreciatively. "Nice," he said. "Envy would love that."

"I have more," I said, ignoring the Envy comment. I already knew that anyways. I mean, it's kind of hard not to, the way Envy drools over Ling's lip ring. Besides, I do not need that mental image.

Roy looked slightly surprised. "Really?" he asked. "You don't seem the type."

"Well, I am. Mom hates it," I said, pulling up my shirt to reveal my pierced bellybutton. "This one's kind of lame."

Roy looked at my stomach and almost regained his usual smirk. "Why a belly button piercing?" he asked. "Isn't that a little girly?"

I glared at him. Yes, I knew it was girly, but there were reasons. Actually, there was cannabis and alcohol. Same difference.

"Okay, you know how crushed Winry was when Laurence broke up with her, sophomore year, right before prom? And then she didn't get to go at all," I said, hoping that Roy knew what I was talking about. Though considering that Laurence had asked Winry at the rally and broken up with her in the cafeteria, I wasn't sure how he could've avoided knowing about it.

Roy nodded.

"Well," I said, putting my shirt down. "Russell and I were completely blazed when Ling called, saying that Winry had gone absolutely hysterical. Which is pretty usual, post-break-up. Russell and I went over to her house and then I started drinking with her." I held up my hand to forestall any more mocking. "Hey, Ling was mixing drinks and he's good. Like, professional bartender good. Russell, of course, didn't, cause he doesn't like to mix pot and cosmopolitans (which was what Winry was having)." I paused, remembering the massive hangover I had the day after.

"So anyways, she gets the bright idea to go shopping. And Ling drives us downtown, and you know how there's this little tattoo parlor piercing place that all the drunk college girls go to?" Roy nodded again. I had a funny feeling that he was there, often, lurking in the shadows, watching half-naked college chicks get tattoos they'd regret in the morning.

"Well, Winry wanted to go in and at that point, we were all humoring her because she wasn't sobbing. So this guy is a total creep to her, so I, of course, being the stoned moron that I am, put my arm around her waist and glare at him, because you know, that's what friends do," I said. "Turns out the place is having this thing where if you get two bellybutton piercings, the second one is free and you get a pair of earrings. Winry really wanted those earrings. And didn't mind getting her bellybutton pierced. I was the only one stupid enough to let her convince me. Russell thought it was hilarious and Ling took pictures. That's why I don't get smashed and wasted anymore," I said, finishing my story. I was beet red.

Roy stared at me for a minute in dumbfounded surprise, then burst out laughing. "And you haven't gotten rid of it?" he asked when he finally got his laughter under control.

"Winry has threatened to remove something a little lower if I do. Apparently one of the best parts of summer is watching me strut around shirtless."

Roy blinked, then winced. "Oh. Oh! I'm sure she'd carry out that threat."

"You have no idea," I said and turned back to the Chemistry work in front of us.

Roy's phone rang. He picked it up on the third ring after glancing at the caller ID. I paid careful attention to the problem I was supposed to be working. Rule number one for good eavesdropping: look like you're occupied.

"Hello?" Roy said. (At 500 degrees Celcius, cyclopropane rearranges to propene. The reaction is first order, and the rate constant is 6.7 x 10(-4) 1/seconds. If the initial concentration of cyclopropane is .0500 M then…)

The voice on the other end chattered away. Roy glanced at me. I pretended to concentrate on the problem.

"Hi," he said, picking at his eraser. "Look, um, this is kind of a—"

"Yes, but—"

Roy glanced over at me then looked back. He listened for a moment. Then:

"Envy, you really shouldn't—"

What the FUCK?!?! I jerked up. Envy?! You'd think by now that I'd gotten used to him cropping up randomly in my life. Roy looked at me apologetically. I rolled my eyes. He'd done nothing but whine about how much Envy hates him now and his apology since I arrived. It's gotten a little annoying. I shrugged. I didn't even know or care what Envy should or shouldn't do. Really, I didn't. Not at all, though… he probably shouldn't jump off a bridge or anything.

"No, Envy, I really don't think—"

Too bad Roy's talking on his cell. I am not above finding the other landline and eavesdropping.

"You really don't want to come over right now. I'm—"

"...Well, no, not tech—"

"Look, it's really—he hung up on me," Roy said, looking completely dejected, like a kicked puppy or something. I sighed.

"I'm sure," I lied, "that Envy will do the right thing."

"That's exactly what I'm afraid of," Roy moaned, head planting into the Chem book.

"At least he's on speaking terms with you," I said, looking down at the impossible problem. We could look it up in the back of the book, but that was borderline cheating… and giving up. "He just glares at me or drools over Ling."

Roy gave me a strange look.

"Never mind, let's get back to the problem," I said. This whole thing was just too weird.

About five minutes later, we were interrupted by someone knocking at the door. At that point, all of our answers agreed with each other, and more importantly the back of the book. Still, we'd only just begun reviewing the chapter, making Awkward Study Arrangement of V-Day the least productive yet. It was even less productive than the time Mrs. Mustang had her bingo club over. In case you didn't know, it's impossible to study when fourteen extremely quiet women are watching you.

"I'll get it," Roy said, in case his parents were listening. They weren't. He shrugged and looked at me. "It's probably a salesman or something."

I shrugged, helplessly. This is, had I been with Ling, Russell, or Winry, where I would make some remark about religious soliciting. Unfortunately, there are only about two groups who do that: Jehovah's Witnesses and Mormons.

Hence me not talking.

'Cause Roy's parents are Mormon and all. And I'm not sure if Roy is; I mean, it doesn't seem like him at all. But he never talks about it or church, so I don't really know. I prefer to error on the side of caution though and not mention it.

I heard snippets of a conversation drift in through the kitchen. I sighed. I might as well see who it is, then I'll just go back to work or whatever. I set my Chem book down and walked through the kitchen. I could just barely see the door from the kitchen. Roy didn't have the door open very wide and he didn't look as though he was about to invite the person in.

I could, of course, just walk up and see who the person—a girl judging from the voice—was. But, I thought, that wouldn't be very sneaky. And, if it was a girl, Roy wouldn't be very pleased if it was totally obvious I'd been spying on them. Understandably so, it's one of those things straight men have about their women. We don't like other straight men ogling them.

I walked back into the kitchen, out past the dining room, around through the living room and entered the foyer near the stairs.

I saw the girl before she saw me. She was hot. I mean, not hot in the way that Rose and Lyra and Sloth are hot. First off, she wasn't bitching Roy out or completely flirting with him. Secondly, she didn't have boobs, but damn. Fucking hot, man; she was just undeniable.

Her outfit was pretty plain: collared shirt, sweater, and black cargo pants—but not the baggy Goth ones. I bet her ass looked amazing in them. Her nice, small, perfect ass, that I hadn't ever seen before but could picture it in my head so perfectly.

Her hair was dyed some green color, but I didn't care. It looked sleek and silky, perfect for running your fingers through. It was hella long too. Almost like Sloth's. In fact, this girl looked a lot like Sloth, especially when I thought about it. You wouldn't pick Sloth and this chick out of a crowd and say they looked like each other. But stand them side by side, and you would say they were sisters. Or cousins. Or something.

She was wearing glasses too.

So fucking hot.

Yet so familiar. It was almost like I'd seen her before, but how, where?

I really should've known. But I couldn't think at all. Or well I could, but just not about anything but that green haired chick. She was just—so perfect, you would not believe—and she was just—it was mindblowing in the extreme. I'm just glad I didn't have a ring or I might've proposed to her and that would've been … it would've sucked, okay.

"Just let me get this over with, okay?" she said suddenly. I sighed. She was one of Roy's conquests, probably ex-valentine or something. Roy's girl, not mine, though maybe they were breaking up. Actually, since she wasn't at all Roy's type, green-chick might've just been crushing on Roy and sent him a Valentine Gram or Friday. "I'm just really fucking sorry, okay?"

"You know, I'm really the one that should be saying something like that," Roy said. There went my hope. Damn, taken and taken by Roy. Just my luck. Dream girl too, seriously, my dream girl. Like I could see myself marrying her dream girl. I sighed again. Love at first sight wasn't something I'd ever believed in—okay, that's a flat out lie. I was briefly (five months) convinced that love at first sight existed. But you know how that one turned out!

I moved closer to the door, thinking that I might as well talk to Dream Girl, instead of lurking by the stairs. You know, form a connection, so that when Roy breaks her heart, I'll be there. Only not as the rebound because those relationships never work out.

"Hey, Roy," I said, "Are you going to…"

I shut up when I realized my colossal mistake. Envy didn't look too pleased either. Actually he looked fucking pissed. Which might, key word _might_, have been majorly hot, had Envy actually been a girl. As it was, he was still, and I say this in the straightest way possible—not that finding a guy vaguely—fuck it all, he was slightly … not… unattractive.

"Uh," I said, stalling for time and trying to gather my wits. I wasn't gay, or bi, or anything. Envy just looked like a fucking girl—a fucking perfect girl too. Fucking not fair. Why couldn't he just be a girl? Then everything would be perfect. Envy glared at me fiercely. I just stood there with a really dumb expression on my face. Which is normal, considering I'd just mistaken Envy for a girl and my dick hadn't quite caught up with my brain on that one.

What the fuck was Envy's hand doing on Roy's wrist?!? They weren't secretly going out, were they? Because that would be wrong, just wrong. Though it would explain why Envy got so upset and why Roy was so crushed.

Envy dropped Roy's hand suddenly. I just stared, same stupid look on my face. This was embarrassing. Roy looked like he'd rather be anywhere but here. I didn't blame him. He was pretty much screwed at this point.

"Look," he began, pleading. He tried to recapture Envy's hand. I glowered. Envy obviously wasn't in the mood for touchy feeling shit. He'd probably maul the next person who tried to hug him.

"Fuck you!" Envy yelled. "If you want to fuck around with Edward fucking Elric, be my guest!"

What the fuck? I wasn't fucking Roy, I wasn't the other woman—man, person, I didn't mean to invade Envy's space (even though it's Roy's house and he can have who ever he wants over). It's not, he's not, I'm not, we're just. For some reason, as inarticulate as my own thoughts were, I felt the pressing desire to inform Envy of this inner turmoil.

I think it went something like this:

"He's not—We're not! It's just a study gig!"

The not-so-dark side is this: I didn't add 'I love you,' 'You're my dream girl,' 'Marry me,' or, my personal favorite, 'You're fucking gorgeous with those glasses never wear contacts again.'

Roy just stared at Envy, open-mouthed. Envy turned around and stomped off to his car, ignoring the two of us.

The bright side is that I was right about those pants. Envy's ass looked—I squashed that thought. It was unproductive and stupid. All it meant was that Envy had a girl butt and my sex drive didn't know the difference. It wasn't as though I was attracted to Envy or anything. And he didn't have to ignore me like that.

Not that I cared, it was just rude.

-fin.

NOTE (continued): Ah, yeah, just a recap - due to school and scholarships and other real-life stuff PFF (and therefore me too) won't be able to continue this until school ends, probably. So expect a large slow down in updates - sorry!


	9. Chapter 9

A/N by: Potions For Foxes

Oh God, this is hilarious. I was in stitches while reading most of this. It is hilarious. So good. If you don't find it as funny, don't worry, I happen to know how Ed would react to Envy's thoughts and what Ed's thinking, and what going to happen next. –cackles– It's really just an excellent chapter. Indy has gone above and beyond this time. She's also had the patience to put up with me and my questions about the Catholic Church (which I like, but when confronted with religion I tend to go and find hilarious bits. Like patron saints. Did you know that there are not one, but several, patron saints of children of unmarried parents. Basically, patron saints of bastards.) But I digress, the point is this chapter is awesome. Read it, review it, love it.

Oh, and FYI:

I am done with my chapter. It will be posted on oh, say the 19th. Do not leave a review telling Indy to update faster. Because I'm the one with the next chapter, suc'KAAAS! And I don't like update!reviews. In fact, for every update!review I think I'll delay posting by… three hours. Instead of updating, I'll take that time to write the next chapter of Stuttering Towards Ecstasy (which I swear I will finish, I promise.)

Beef stroganoff is actually… edible. My mom makes it over rice. It's beef sirloin (the long chewy bits), sauce, and mushrooms. I loathe mushrooms. It's edible, but it's the awful brown-grey color. It's not my favorite dish…

Chapter by: indigo oceans

Stupid Cupid

_(quit hitting on me)_

Chapter Nine

When I sped away from Roy's house, I had no idea where I was going. Well, that's kind of a lie - I knew I had to eventually go to Manny's and pick up Wrath. But there was no way, and I mean no way that I would let him see me in this state. Fuck it, I was practically crying.

Let's forget about criticizing my pathetic overreaction and have a little more sympathy, okay? I mean, Roy is my best friend. I didn't meet him because I was rich, or notorious, or because Sloth introduced us to each other. And he knows I'm a guy, and he doesn't really care about my less-than-orthodox sexual orientation, and if I want chocolate he buys it and if he wants to practice guitar he can come to my house. That's what best friends are for.

And now he was friends with Ed. And I'm not a bitch - I mean, I am a bitch, but I'm not enough of a bitch to ban people from being friends with someone I don't like. Still, it would've been nice if he had told me. As for Ed... it would be nice if I could trust that he wasn't trying to steal my best friend. But Edward fucking Elric is not to be trusted with anything. Ever.

Stopping at a red light, I sighed. I was behaving like an irrational, hormonal thirteen year old girl. But the don't call me 'Envy' for nothing, you know? And, I mean, I had a right to throw a couple temper tantrums now and then, especially considering the absolute hell my week had been. Running a hand through my hair - probably making it messier than it had been before - I leaned back and relaxed as much as I could. Crying and all other emotional displays make me tired as fuck, and I was ready to crawl into my bed and die for the third time in two days.

But duty was calling and Wrath would be calling too. In fact, I was surprised my cell phone hadn't rung already. He tended to get lonely and a little freaked out if I was ever late, the clingy son of a bitch.

I sighed again and resolved to take the longest, most circuitous route to Manny's I knew. If Wrath wasn't freaking out now, he could wait a little longer. And maybe by the time I reached the ice cream parlor, I'd be calm enough that I wouldn't walk inside looking like hell.

Of course, even the best plans don't work out the way they're supposed to, and that wasn't a good plan to begin with. After I parked the Jag I took a quick look at myself in the overhead mirror, and I still looked like shit.

But I wasn't crying. I suppose that was something.

I hesitated again as I stepped through the door and the chilly, air-conditioned atmosphere of Manny's washed over me. The black and white checkered floor, red upholstered chairs with wrought iron backs, and slightly dented red counter all brought back a flood of memories. The ice cream parlor was the favorite dating site for everyone from teenagers to centenarians, and daddy-Pride had first introduced me to my crackwhore mother at one of the tables outside. And in freshman year, Ed had taken me here every other weekend.

Ah, fuck. Pushing my hair out of my eyes, I let the door shut behind me as I took a few steps forward. The worst thing to do when walking into a room is hesitate at the entrance. It draws attention to you in a bad way, shows that you're lost or nervous and makes people look at you. Today that was, for once, the last thing I wanted.

Although it was Valentine's Day, a few of the tables in the front were empty. The back, however, was practically packed. I took a few more steps and craned my neck to see over the chattering masses, in search of Wrath's distinctive mop of unruly black hair. And there it was, in the very back by the entrance to the bathrooms. What a surprise - not. He was surrounded by blondes - also not a surprise, since Wrath's big eyes attract more high school girls than a Twilight midnight release party.

Except I doubted these blondes would be found anywhere near an Edward Cullen cutout. Especially not - ah, fuck me in the ass - especially not Mr. I'm a Friggin Heterosexual, Edward fucking Elric.

His dumbfounded stare showed beyond a doubt that he noticed me too. Oh great, now there was no chance of escaping and sitting in the car until Wrath was finished. I shot him my best 'screw you' glare, straightened up, and marched to their table. What the fuck was he doing sitting with my cousin?

Oh, I thought as I saw the other two blondes clearly. His brother was there, too.

"Come on," I told Wrath flatly, determinedly ignoring Edward fucking Elric. He could stare at me all he wanted; it didn't mean I had to acknowledge his existence.

Wrath glared at me. "No." Oh, what a fucking peachy time for the brat to grow a backbone. Normally, he followed me back to the car without any complaints. Then again, normally he wasn't surrounded by cute blondes. ...I'm referring to Ed's brother, I mean, and the other kid with the angel face and baby blue eyes. Remember, Ed does not exist right now.

"Why don't you listen to your brother?" the kid, er, Alphonse asked.

"Why don't you take your own advice?" Ed mutters darkly. Fuck, he talked. I transferred my glare to him just long enough to show I was not pleased, then trained it back on Wrath. He blinked at me innocently.

"Come on, let's get the fuck out of here," I told him, exasperated. That little shit, looking all smirky and pleased with himself. I was five seconds away from grabbing him by the hair and dragging him out of the fucking place. If it wouldn't have gotten me arrested, I'd have done it already. Instead, I clamped my hand around my other wrist, pretending it was Wrath's throat I was grabbing.

"No," Wrath said again, and I could see his true, bratty self poking through his angelic facade. Suddenly, he smiled. "Bet Sloth would love to hear about this."

I gave him a wary look. Wrath invoked Sloth's name often and loudly, usually when I had him pinned up against the wall. He seemed to think of her as a savior or something - maybe he was going to call her and complain. Or maybe... My eyes flicked to Ed involuntarily. "About what?" I asked slowly.

His smile widened. I had never noticed before that he had such sharp teeth. Must've been an inherited thing. "This. She'd just love to hear about it. About you and eh-"

I made a sharp gesture with my hand, something between a karate chop and a slap that was cut short at the last minute. "Shut up!" Me and Ed. Yeah, Sloth would just about wet herself for this juicy story. I bit my lip. With that kind of blackmail, Wrath knew he had me nailed.

"Everyone here," Wrath finished, raising a sardonic eyebrow. He had made his point, and he knew it. "Oh, and I ran out of money, so if you want ice cream you'd better buy it yourself."

Exasperated, I closed my eyes and gave a heavy sigh. "You goddamn fucking crack baby," I said, sounding more tired than angry. Daddy-Pride usually gave the kids at least twenty bucks before dropping him off. What had Wrath done, buy ice cream for everyone in the store? I looked around. There was no more room at the table - not that I wanted to sit squished up against Edward fucking Elric; I had enough of that freshman year - and I didn't have any money. Fuck it. "I'll be out in the car."

As I turned to leave, wanting nothing more than to sleep or die or just get the fuck away from this farce, I heard the sound of a chair being pushed back. Maybe it was Wrath, having made the decision to have mercy on his older cousin. Yeah, right.

Still, the truth is just as surprising. "Hey, Envy," Ed said. I jumped and turned around like a startled cat. His hand was reached out halfway, but he stopped before it landed on my arm or shoulder or whatever. It was probably for the best. If the bastard had touched me, I might've slapped him. He was probably going to babble some stupid apology for Roy or - "My treat."

Huh? I was so startled I let him touch my wrist and followed him to the counter. "I think I owe you one for all the times you paid my way." He gave me one of those dazzling smiles that had confused me so much during freshman year. I had never known what to make of them - if he meant them to be just friendly, or if... if... I was dumbstruck. I must've stood there for a couple seconds looking like a fish out of water before I realized he was still touching me. That, I knew how to deal with.

"Don't be an idiot," I said, shaking off his hand. I resisted the impulse to shudder and brush off my wrist.

"Sorry, my bad," he replied. For what? Touching me? Being an idiot? Talking to me freshman year? "But really, let me buy you ice cream. It's the least I can do."

I gave him a strange look. The least he could do for what? The only reason I hadn't cussed him out already and left was because I was too fucking exhausted, and anyway I still needed to get Wrath. I opened my mouth to ask something, but then realized I had no idea what to say and shut it. As they say, silence is golden - especially when you're confused half out of your mind.

"Fine," I said finally, after giving him a sidelong glance and realizing he was still waiting for a response. "But I'll - I'll have Roy pay you back. Or something." Since they were now practically best friends. I looked away again, bitter.

Surprisingly, Ed sounded nearly as bitter when he arched an eyebrow and said, "So you'll owe Roy money, but not me?" What was wrong with that? I mean, I wanted as little contact with Ed as possible, especially in school, and I assumed he felt the same way. Why would Golden Boy want to contaminate himself with the resident homo, especially after freshman year? And since he and Roy were so damn close, bosom buddies doncha know, why shouldn't Roy be the one to hand him the money? I caught myself glaring and gave myself a mental smack, remembering that I wasn't going to get mad at Roy for his bad taste in friends.

But before I could even think of a scathing reply, an elderly woman stepped up to the cash register. "What will it be, dears?" she asked in a voice that had probably been used for scolding children and cooing endearments to the grandchildren.

"We'll have a raspberry swirl with chocolate fudge sauce and chocolate sprinkles in a bowl, three scoops," Ed rattled off before I could even make a choice. "And a... another three scoops. Mint, pistachio, and green tea please, with almonds on top. Also in a bowl."

For a minute, I thought Ed had gotten me the pistachio-whatever, as a sick sort of joke ("It's green - matches with your hair. Food fight!"), or that he was some sick sort of mind reader. He had, after all, ordered my favorite type of ice cream, word for word. But then I remembered that Manny's had been our favorite hangout, back in freshman year.

With Ed, everything came back to freshman year. Made me want to go dig a hole and bury myself out of sheer, cringe-worthy embarrassment. That, or knock out some of Ed's pretty white teeth. But no, I was going to eat ice cream with him, and we were going to be 'friends'. Ha.

Ed finished his business with the cashier and turned back to me. Great. I can't stand awkward silences. Did I have to keep him entertained? When he didn't say anything, it appeared that yes, I did. "Pistachio?" I asked him, raising an eyebrow and trying my absolute best to sound like I didn't care. Like I talked to him like this every fucking day of the week.

"I like green things," he replied quickly, almost defensively, and then blushed. "I mean, not that I like you or anything, because I don't - I mean, not that you're ugly or anything, you aren't actually and I swear, I just meant ice cream..." He shuts his mouth, and then opens it a second later - just when I thought he'd realized it was best to be quiet. "I'll shut up now."

Right. That was a good idea. I was still blinking at his flood of words. Green, and then me...?

Oh, he meant my hair. I had been planning to make a crack about vegetables or something. I had no idea that what he said could have been applied to me... and did he just call me pretty? What a backhanded way to give a compliment. I blinked again, and realized I was probably blushing. Oh, shit. "Whatever," I said, figuring that the best way to recover was to fumble out some kind of reply. "Pistachio's nasty."

"Uh, well, I like it," Ed replied, looking just about as off-balance as I felt. Good. At least that made two of us. "Raspberry and chocolate go rather well together," he continued, jumping to a tangent so effortlessly it took me a moment to catch up, and I was no amateur at wordplay. He shot me another one of his stunning smiles, and for the first time, I realized just how white his teeth were. I mean, it wasn't terribly noticeable, but in that lighting, and with that almost-panicked look in his eyes -

I swear (if I may use a theological metaphor), the three Magi could've found baby Jesus by the light of that smile.

"Yeah," I managed, trying not to imagine a giant smile in the sky on Nativity night. "They do." We were talking about raspberry and chocolate, right? Fuck, I wanted out of here.

"Here you go," the woman at the counter said, handing Ed both bowls of ice cream. Great, he had the goods - another excuse to keep me prisoner for a little while. I glanced over at Wrath, but he seemed absorbed by his new best friends. Joy.

When I turned back, Ed was holding out my ice cream. I took it reluctantly, and our fingers brushed, making me startle and jerk back so quickly I nearly dropped my ice cream. Fuck. Fuck. Whenever we went to Manny's in freshman year, Ed would do the same thing. He'd pick up the ice cream and hold it out, and I'd take it, and our fingers would -

Back then, I was a naive little freshman, but now I'm friends with Roy Mustang. I know flirting when I see it, now, and back then... Ed was flirting as much as he knew how. Son of a fucking bitch.

Apparently Ed chose the high route by ignoring my reaction. "Hey, do you want to sit down somewhere?" he asked, and I blinked. I though we were supposed to go back to the children like good big brothers - or cousins, in my case. "I don't think either of our brothers would willingly go, er... There's not really room at the table, ah, and I, ah, well, would hate to intrude on their love triangle thing. It's like a soap opera and Al's sulking."

Right. Al, Wrath, and whoever that kid was. The ménage à trois from hell. Lovely. "Fine," I said, biting back several scathing comments about Ed's awkwardness - the most apt of which being something like 'If you wanted me alone, babe, all you had to do was ask.' If it were anyone but Edward fucking Elric, I'd have gone right out and said it. But no, we can't pollute the hetero's already-tarnished reputation. So I waited like a good little lamb for him to lead me to slaughter - I mean, for him to hurry up and sit somewhere.

"Here, uh, this table's free," Ed said finally, taking a seat at some random table. I trailed behind him at a distance. This was turning out to be an awkward parody of one of our... our... dates. Just because I was gay didn't mean God couldn't give me a fucking break once in a while. I placed my ice cream in front of me and sat.

Great, I was alone at a table in an ice cream shop with Edward fucking Elric. And we had nothing to say to each other. Just where I wanted to be. Exactly how I wanted to spend my Saturday. Really, fate must be able to read my mind.

The awkward silence dragged on. I took a bite of my ice cream. Even the tart-yet-sweet flavor of raspberry couldn't distract me from this hell. And, as a bonus - lucky fucking me - the chocolate sprinkles were shaped like hearts. Oh yeah, it was Valentine's day. I was spending the most romantic day of the year with my worst enemy, who, coincidentally, had happened to ask me out.

And I hated him. He could buy me all the ice cream in the world, but I still hated him.

"So what the fuck were you doing at Roy's house?" I asked, snapping the silence like overstretched taffy. Even though I had accepted that they were friends (or at least friendly, because maybe 'friends' was pushing it), I still had a right to be curious. Roy was still mine.

Ed looked up from his horrific green ice cream combination to blink at me in consternation. Heh. Apparently he's never seen the good cop, bad cop routine on TV. "We were just going over Chapter Twelve," he says. His expression is a little affronted. "AP Chem. That's all, I swear. I'm not going to steal your boyfriend, Envy."

Before I stopped to even realize what I was doing, I had smacked one hand down on the table and was half standing, the backs of my knees pressing into the seat of the chair. "He's not my boyfriend," I spat, so angry I wasn't sure what I wanted to do first - slap him or strangle him. I could have - and had - taken those kind of jibes before from lots of people. But Ed - for Edward thinks-he's-hot-shit Elric to say that... And he said my name. He had no right to say my name.

Raising his hands a little, for self defense, probably, Ed shook his head and had the nerve to laugh a little. "Geez, Envy," he said, talking to me like I was some kind of jealous child. (So what if I was? Like I said, he had no right.) "Roy chases anything with boobs. It doesn't even have to move or have legs, just boobs. It's a joke. Though you're possessive enough that one would think you two were dating." He glared.

I wasn't that possessive! I let Roy have other friends! I didn't expect to monopolize every minute of his time! But he was mine. I... I needed him. "You're a dumb piece of shit, Elric," I said, trying to distance myself from the argument and hating how I ended up just sounding exhausted and hurt. "But I already knew that." To make up for my voice, which seemed intent to betray me, I glared at him.

Ooh, that annoyed him. "You'd think you'd be a little nicer to the person who just bought you ice cream and saved you from Wrath, but no," Ed said, shrugging dramatically. Oh, because isn't he just the heart and soul of modern chivalry.

"You'd think I'd be a little nastier to the person who seems to make a habit of fucking up my fucking life," I shot back nastily, mimicking his shrug.

Ed's expression grew even angrier. Oh, good. I knew he couldn't hide behind that excruciatingly polite, smiling mask forever. Let's learn what you really think, Eddi-boy. "Come on Envy," he said, sounding exasperated. "We both know that's not true." Oh really? "Name one thing - outside of me asking you out - that I've done specifically to ruin your life. Look, Roy's done worse things to you and you still talk to him."

I blinked. That wasn't what I had expected. Shoving aside the comment about Roy - that could wait, because I really didn't want to think about that now - I fumbled for a comeback. "Roy didn't show up here, for one," I managed, taking an angry bite of my ice cream. It didn't provide quite the effect I had hoped for, as it was cold and made my teeth ache.

"And how has that ruined your life?" Ed snapped. I had misjudged before. Now he was getting angry. "I don't think it compares to stealing your Match-Up Gram and announcing the results to the whole class. I think Roy pretty much has me beat there." Oh, such a touching display of loyalty to your friend. No wonder I was so head-over-heels for him freshman year. He even had the gall to smirk at me as he took a bite of his ice cream.

"Oh, I'm sure you would have," I retorted, matching if not exceeding Ed's viciousness. "I recall you doing something awfully like that in freshman year. So leave Roy out of this, please." See, I'm a good boy. I never forget my manners.

I knew Ed was volatile, but never before had he gotten angry at me. That was my first full on view of his expression as it changed from astonished to hurt to furious in the blink of an eye. I wasn't sure where the hurt came from - as if anything I said could possibly permeate his dense skull. "In case it managed to slip your puny little mind," he hissed, "I also got matched up with you. So I wouldn't be likely to inform the whole class. And as I said, aside from that incident, I have done nothing to intentionally ruin your life." He looked me directly in the eyes before he spoke his next words. "It's not my fault you can't get over it." Apparently feeling that he had made his point, he looked away to take a bite of his ice cream.

No. He didn't. He did not just try to put the blame for this whole fucking situation on my shoulders. I was so mad that for a few seconds I could barely move. But once again, my temper got the better of me and before I knew it I was standing, both hands pressed flat on the table and my chair clattering to the tile behind me. "That's easy for you to say, isn't it, you fucking hypocrite?" I spat, everything I had wanted to say for the past few years leaving my mouth in a torrent of hate and anger, my voice growing progressively louder as I yelled. "It didn't make you the school's fucking fag-in-residence! Don't talk to me. You know nothing!"

Before he could even think of a reply, I had marched away to Wrath's table. I'd be damned - or rather, Wrath would be damned - if I had to sit like a nice little boy and take any more of this shit. I grabbed the kid by the neck of his shirt and he knew better than to resist. "We're leaving."

For some reason, Ed felt the need to rush after me. Always trying to patch things up after it's too late... that's him. But I was still too angry to realize that was just how he was, and yelling at him wouldn't make him stop following me like a kicked puppy. The idiot. "Look, Envy, I didn't mean for that to happen! That wasn't my intention at all!" Absurdly, he stopped to pick up the chair that had fallen when I stood to make my exit.

"I don't care whose fucking fault it was," I told him acidly, dragging Wrath down the aisle with me so quickly the brat had to scramble to find his feet and walk after me. "It happened, didn't it?"

"It was an accident!" Ed replied, sounding desperate. "I didn't think. I shouldn't have said that, but Envy, it's been two years!"

"Yeah, you think?" I was on a roll, in terms of angry sarcasm. "And apparently you still haven't gotten the message." I looked him directly in the eye. There was no way to step gingerly around this one. "Leave. Me. The. Fuck. Alone."

"I-" Ed began, and I prepared to hit him with my free hand. But he cut himself off - wisely - and looked down. "Fine. Talk to Roy. He misses you. You've really upset him."

I blinked and stared at him. In fact, everyone was staring. This was getting farcical. If the ice cream lady had her security cameras rolling, she could've taped this whole fight and sent it to a screenwriter for a brand new soap opera - FML, maybe, as an abbreviation for Fuck My Life. It needed to end, now, and like any good soap opera star I knew my cue. Without replying, I dragged Wrath out the door.

Except... why would Ed have cared about me and Roy? I thought he would be laughing, or at least apathetic, at the strife he had inadvertently caused. Why would he -

I turned back to look, and opened my mouth, but I had nothing to say. Now that the anger was leaving me and being replaced by utter exhaustion, I just felt... confused.

---

Of course, things didn't improve when I got back home, not that I was optimistic enough to expect them to. After spending the whole twenty minute car ride listening to Wrath rave about how cute Ed's little brother was (and if that wasn't just bizarre), I was ready to strangle something. Preferably him. So when he bounced over the doorstep and sing-songed something about telling Sloth everything, I needed no further provocation to jump on him and wrestle him into the ground.

"Shut the fuck up," I hissed. "I knew you were Sloth's little minion, but I thought maybe you could keep your mouth shut for once in your fucking life." I punctuated each word by squishing his face a little further into the carpet.

"Mmph!" he whined, his voice muffled by a mouthful of floor. "Envy, you - ow! Stop it!"

I grinned viciously. Wrath was the perfect scapegoat, really - smaller and in no position to complain to the parentals if I subjected him to a little sibling abuse. Whereas, if I tried something like this with the person I was actually pissed at (aka Edward fucking Elric), I'd just be spreading around those rumors even more. I might even get arrested for being an abusive fag - heaven forbid!

"Once you're done torturing my son," a deep, richly amused voice said from the kitchen entryway, "I could really use your help with the dishes, nephew."

Oh, you had got to be fucking kidding me. Not him, not now. I loosened my grip on Wrath's shaggy hair as I looked up in dread, and he took the advantage to shove me off and scamper up the stairs, sticking his tongue out at me when he reached the landing. But right now, he was the least of my problems.

I stood. "Greed. Nice to see ya, unky."

He smiled broadly, revealing his sharklike teeth in all their glory. "Likewise. Long time no see. I've missed my favorite nephew. Hug?" He held out his arms and I knew that under those annoying rounded sunglasses, he was giving me an amused smirk.

"Save it for someone who cares," I replied, flicking an imaginary speck of dust from my sleeve. "Personally, I would prefer it if you shoved your fucking head up your ass and died in the nastiest way that is fucking possible."

His smile widened, and I knew why a moment later. "Envy," someone said behind me, in an amused and very feminine voice. "It's wonderful to see that you've kept your charming gift for invective."

I jumped nearly a foot and turned around as fast as a cat that's had its tail yanked. "D-Dante!" I stammered, feeling very much off guard and extremely idiotic. "Er, um..." Greed was waiting behind me with his usual sardonic look, but I had to choose between the lesser of two evils. I hazarded a greeting. "Nice to see you?"

She gave a 'hmph' noise, stuck up her nose, and flounced - petticoats and all - into the kitchen. Greed and I traded a look.

"Family dinner, huh?" I asked him. Sure, he was the creepy pedophile uncle who lives in my garage (and really, I shit you not), but he's preferable to Grandma Dante any day of the week.

He nodded. "Welcoming the black sheep back to the fold." Greed really is the black sheep of the family, in that he doesn't stay in the house very often and, when he's away, can be found in a different state any day of the week. I don't know what he was doing, and I don't want to. But every time he returns, the family was a bit richer and Russian wife cooked us a feast. One time when he came back, he had a two year old Wrath in tow. Now that day was bizarre.

"Is Lust back too?" I asked, and it came out a bit more hopefully than I would have liked. "I mean, she said she'd be coming back sometime soon..."

"Not 'til March, dearest nephew," Greed replied with another sharp-edged grin. On second thought, following after Dante might not have been such a bad idea. "She's doing very important business right now, you know."

If Greed is the black sheep of the family, Lust is the, er, spotted one. In a very attractive way, of course. Her business is at least legitimate - she works in a high-end modeling agency and is always traveling around for various appearances and photo shoots and whatever. She sends Sloth some of her hand-me-downs, which accounts for my half-sister's high fashion.

Anyway.

"Borscht, huh?" I asked dismally, changing the subject. Ah, Russian food - or, more accurately, beet soup served with sour cream.

"And stroganov," Greed added, shrugging. Stroganov, which we Americans (because if I don't like the food and I'm only a quarter Russian, I can't really identify with that ethnic group) have anglicized to 'stroganoff'. Beef with noodles and cream sauce; joy.

"That's not too bad," I said honestly, trying to look at the bright side.

Greed looked dismal. "Not when we're drinking kvas with it."

"Oh. Oh, fuck." I made gagging motions. Kvas is described as a 'sweet, bread-based beverage', which makes it sound good but doesn't go into the reality, which has something to do with chucking flour in boiling water and waiting for something to soak in. Gag me with a fucking spoon. It was too much to hope for, I know, but... "Russian wife's not making syrniki, is she?"

Greed's expression grew even more morose.

"Oh shit, she is?" Syrniki - cottage cheese mixed with honey or jam and fried in a saucepan. It was supposed to be a dessert, I kid you not. Well, gag me with a sharp spoon and fuck me in the ass. "Then we'll do the usual, right?"

My creepy uncle gave me a thumbs up and disappeared back into the kitchen. I sighed and slumped against the wall. For the record, 'the usual' consists of poking at the food on our plates so it looks reasonably mushed and possibly eaten, then excusing ourselves for a walk after Dante left and really heading posthaste to the nearest McDonald's and pigging out on decent, human food. I mean, I hate fast food as much as the next decently sane person, but anything was preferable to fuckin' tvorag.

And so it goes. You know how family dinners are - though I doubt you have a family as dysfunctional as mine. Daddy-Pride was gruffly proud of Russian wife's cooking and gruffly deferential to Grandma Dante, who sniffed at the stroganov and made thinly veiled sniping comments about her grandchildren's parentage. Well, mostly mine - from the way she acts, you'd think I was the only bastard in the family. But there's Wrath and Greed, who acts enough of a bastard to be counted as one. He sent period smirks to Daddy-Pride and was his usual obsequious self with Dante, as if we all didn't know how much he hated her.

As for Wrath, he sent periodic glares at me while being chirpy while Russian wife and Grandma Dante pretended they liked each other and him. And Sloth smirked occasionally in my direction, letting me know without a doubt that she knew all about the Manny's fiasco. Go figure, you know?

But McDonalds afterwards was better, though I had to keep rolling my eyes whenever Greed said I was his favorite. I'd be a little more creeped out if I knew not to trust anything he said; he loves getting a rise out of people.

Later, though, my stomach stuffed full of hamburger and French fries, tucked away in my own little corner of the basement safely away from the rest of my family (thank God), my thoughts strayed back to the incident at the ice cream parlor. Sloth hadn't confronted me about it yet, but I knew for sure she would, and I needed to think of sort out my thoughts before then.

First off, I was angry. I was pissed as fuck that Ed had managed to twist up freshman year until it was somehow my fault, like I wasn't the one who had gotten totally played and then totally... totally dumped. Fuck. Fuck. The thought of it was enough to make me clench the blanket in my fists with rage.

But then, there was that thing he said about Roy. Well, both things, really. About how Roy treated me worse on a regular basis than he ever had, and how I had really upset him. Well, the latter was obvious and I was going to have to atone for it either tomorrow or at school. I had just been too chicken today to answer any of his texts, or even read them. I was afraid he might be mad.

About Roy hurting me, though... Sure, he pulled some crappy practical jokes every other month, embarrassed me in front of Ling once in a while, and there was that instance when he shouted out about me and Ed being matched up. But really, he was a friend, and friends are supposed to pull things on each other every once in a while. I mean, if he always treated me like I was made out of glass, then I'd be pissed. But I'm not a whiny girl or a fucking princess. I could take stuff like that.

Well, I mean, the match up thing was a bit overboard, but he had apologized for that. Profusely.

And Roy had never been under the impression that I was a girl. He had never flirted with me or taken me for ice cream or held my hand or hugged me after a cross-country meet. Roy had never -

"Ah, fuck it," I moaned into my pillow, and rolled over. As usual, I was just making a big deal of nothing. But every time I closed my eyes, I saw Ed's face, hurt and bewildered when I had told him to leave me alone. If I had said what I had been wanting to say for two years, if I had given him exactly what he deserved... why did I feel like such a jerk?

Fin

Go read and review If (h ttp: //ww w. fanfiction . net /s/5046951/1/If) by kittyebony13. She's in England. She's written 9 chapters in 23 days. Don't leave her update!reviews. There's no reason for it. She actually updates at the rate of 3 chapters per week. If you can put up with us (and you guys did such a good job on Chapter 7 I'm so proud of you. Except for that one girl…) and we update once a week, maybe, on average unless school and life happen, then you can put up with her. Seriously, though her story is great! It's not as complex as what I like to write (and if you've seen the family trees for the Sins, you know I mean complex). Her Envy is very, very good. It's even in the same style as Stupid Cupid, except it's not a colab so the style is the same regardless of point of view.

Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous (.net/s/3644057/13/Lifestyles_of_the_Rich_and_Famous) [link should work, it's a one... if not check the favorites of this account) is also updated, another awesome chapter by indigo oceans.


	10. Chapter 10

A/N by: Indigo Ocean

I am so tired I want to _cry_. Seriously. I'm laughing and I want to cry, and this is what happens when I don't get enough sleep. Mention anything about Liam Neeson and I really _will_ start crying (don't ask, seriously). I was up until two in the morning, uh, _working _with PFF, and I accidentally fell asleep right when Ed was about to lick whipped cream off Envy's chest (yes, this is another place where you don't ask). Um, that was embarrassing. But about this chapter - it's all my fault! I'm sorry! I mean, not this chapter specifically, but the fiasco in Manny's - _that_ would be my, er, Envy's fault. When we roleplayed their conversation we knew the basic things that needed to happen, but then Envy overreacted a little. And nearly everything that happened afterward was because I _hate_ how people just keep trailing after you when you demonstrate multiple times that you're not interested and they just don't get it and think in their stupid hopelessly romantic heads that they have a chance! Urgh, it's the worst thing ever to be pined after by someone you just like as a friend, and he won't get it through his thick skull!

Except I guess, without things like that, we wouldn't have chick flicks (thank God) or fanfiction or cute romance stories or, hell, I don't know. So I should just take my misanthropic self away and bury myself in a hole or something. ...God, I hate boys. Anyway, with the events that are coming up, you'll probably hear more about this. So yeah. Other than boys being idiots, this chapter is awesome.

Chapter by: Potions For Foxes

Stupid Cupid

_(quit hitting on me)_

Chapter Ten

After Envy was gone, Roy and I got no work done, whatsoever. He just sat, head in his hands, at the kitchen table, _moaning_ about how Envy hated him, and why did he have to be such a screw up and he'd really blown it now.

He kept _looking_ at me, as though he expected me to answer him or reassure him that Envy really didn't mean to storm off like that and the fact that Envy wasn't answering any of the texts that Roy was sending didn't mean a thing.

If you think there's any way I could say that with a straight face, sans sarcasm, you are wrong.

So, instead of saying 'Yeah, Envy probably does hate because you screwed up in the biggest way possible; in fact I don't think you could've made him more upset if you tried, and you pretty much blew it' I puttered around the kitchen and made sandwiches.

"And what am I going to _do?_" Roy said. "He's not going to speak to me at school. He's going—English is going to be awful. Rix is going to—Oh God, Rix. And this is all my fault and he'll never forgive me. And now I've lost my best friend. I'm so stupid."

"Roy," I said, turning around, the knife I'd been using to slice celery still in my hand, "let's look at this logically."

He nodded, looking at me hopefully. I set the knife down. It was far too tempting and threatening.

"You are Envy's best friend. Envy doesn't really have any friends aside from you, Sloth—who shouldn't count because she's his cousin and not always nice, and..." I paused, trying to think of anyone else Envy was friends with, acquainted with, or even spoke to regularly. I guess there was Ling, but Envy didn't exactly speak to him. I didn't think he's ever managed a conversation with Ling. He'd always start staring about halfway through, and that's when Ling would start exploiting Envy's piercing fetish.

"Kimbley," Roy supplied helpfully. "He hung out with Kimbley on Friday after I fucked up in English."

"And that fucktard," I amended.

"Kimbley."

"He's a fucktard," I said. I didn't like Kimbley much, at all, ever.

"But he didn't betray Envy's trust completely," Roy complained, dropping his head to the table. "Ow."

I resisted the urge to smack him.

"Kimbley is a low-life stoner druggy who does God only knows what in those bathrooms," I said. "He's hardly desirable company. Envy likes conversation, right?"

Roy nodded. My lips twitched in a small attempt at a smile. I'd remembered correctly. When I'd first started to get to know Envy, he'd been hanging out with Kimbley, but then he'd just suddenly stopped. I'd asked why because even though I didn't like Kimbley, I didn't want to control who Envy was friends with. Envy had just shrugged and said you really couldn't talk to Kimbley like a normal human being. Why I remembered that (and all those other random Envy facts), I do not know.

"So, it stands to reason that Envy's going to need someone other than Kimbley," I said, slowly. Roy nodded. Good, he was following my logic.

"And since Sloth isn't always the nicest person in the—"

"Hold on," Roy said. "I thought you liked her. And she's Envy's sister."

"Half-sister," I said. Envy had drilled that fact into my head after I'd remarked that Sloth was kind of bitchy and that his and Sloth's mom sounded terrifying. He seemed to think it was necessary that I knew that he was nothing like Sloth. "And she's hot and all, but that's not the point. The point is—"

"Half-sister?" Roy asked. "But they have the same last name and Envy never told me that."

I could've smacked myself. Or Envy. Great move, Envy. You tell me something and not Roy, so when I mention it to Roy it makes him feel worse, jackass. Although it was nice, knowing that Envy trusted me more in freshman year that he trusted Roy, ever. I didn't really want to consider why I thought that, but it was nice. Like knowing that that serial killer trusts _you_ more than all the other psychologists who interview him. Except much less creepy than that. I really shouldn't have been thinking about stuff like this; it would give me a headache.

"Yeah," I said. "It's not impossible to figure out. Envy's not that close to his 'mom' and he and Sloth don't look that much alike. As for the same last name, well adoption does exist and—"

"But there's no way that Russian woman would cheat on—"

"Think about it Roy," I said, glaring at him. He was being impossibly dense. "How close are Envy and Sloth's birthdays?"

Roy stared at me, doing the calculations in his head. I decided to help him out.

"Hint: Even if Envy was born about a month premature and _lived_, it's not possible."

"I know _that_," Roy said. "I just thought that Envy was born a year later or something. And he just skipped a grade. It's possible."

"Oh, alright! Envy told me," I said.

Roy looked hurt. I sighed. This wasn't easy.

"He never told _me _that and I am—was—his best friend." Roy had gone back to moaning.

"Well, maybe he didn't want you to go after Sloth or something. Besides, he told me freshmen year. I'm not even sure why," I said.

"Huh," was all Roy could say.

After leaving Roy's house, I got a call from Al informing me that I was late and that I had promised to take him to Manny's where he was meeting Fletcher for something. He didn't specify and I was afraid to ask, with good reason.

Last year there had been a campaign to nominate Fletcher for the spot of Queen of Hearts, a position normally filled by a girl. From what the authorities (read: school administration) reported, it was a seamlessly run campaign and whoever managed the thing showed great promise as a political mastermind or evil genius.

They said 'whoever' because this campaign was run anonymously. No one knew how big it was. No one knew who was part of it. No one knew whose idea it was. It started with the nomination process. Despite the high caliber voting technology (read: touch screens), Fletcher managed to receive a record number of votes for a write-in candidate.

That was when the more conservative - and believe me, this is a relative term when discussing Al's school - parents started complaining. Chief among the complaints was Mrs. Furnsdell, who argued that titles like King and Queen should be just that, separate titles for two separate jobs, instead of two interchangeable titles for the same job. What if her daughter wanted the job of King of Hearts but didn't feel sexually attracted to girls? Talk about glass ceilings.

That was when the local media picked up on it. Political pundits got involved, conservatives became outraged, and yet a mystery remained. Who was running the campaign? It certainly wasn't Fletcher. He stated in several interviews that he was surprised as anyone at the nomination and pretty thrilled that people were actually voting for him.

I knew it was Al. The whole plan reeked of Al. From the advancing gay rights, namely those of Fletcher, to the dirty underhanded secrecy that the campaign was run with, it was obvious that this was something only my brother could come up with.

No one else would believe me.

"You're making me late," Al said, glaring at me. I glared back. This whole thing was stupid. But at least it kept me out of the house and free, relatively. I didn't want to have to start cooking dinner at 2 pm just because Mom thought I needed something to do.

"Al, the light is red, what do you want me to do about it?" I said, clenching my teeth together.

"You could've made it," Al muttered turning to stare out the window. I rolled my eyes. I wasn't about to lose my allowance for the next five years and my driving privileges just because Al wanted to get somewhere fast.

"Won't Fletcher wait for you?" I asked, drumming my fingers on the steering wheel. The light was still red. I sighed and watched the other cars drive past.

"That's not the point," came the muttered response from the passenger seat.

"Can't you just call him?" I asked, accelerating the instant that the light changed.

"No! We always turn our cell phones off. Don't want anything to distract us."

"Right," I said. Even though Al's in the eighth grade, he still insists on having these stupid secret meetings. Mom would normally just drop them off at the mall or shopping center or even a park, but no, today Al decided to be difficult and hold the meeting at Manny's.

Manny's isn't my favorite place in the world. It's not that they serve bad ice cream or anything. No, it has more to do with the atmosphere. Manny's is set up like an old style ice cream parlor. The seats are a deep red, the floor is black and white checkered, and the ice cream is hand churned. There's a vintage soda fountain and they're famous for their milkshakes. The place is extremely popular with the aging crowd. It's a mainstay among the hipsters who love anything vintage. Children drag their parents into the store.

That's not why I avoid it. It's the couples. Manny's is populated with couples. Sometimes it's the sickeningly sweet old people. The women with their vibrant colored hair and defiant bright red lipstick, and the men who still wear those coats and loafers. Then there are the parents or parent-aged people who act like teenagers.

There are actual teenagers there. It's just that those are either the really goody-two-shoe kids or the relationship is still in the flirting stage, having yet to progress to the indecent public make-out scenes.

Okay, so you all might be a little curious as to why I, Edward L. Elric, dislike the couple-y nature of the place. I wish you wouldn't ask. I really do. You see, Manny's is within easy walking distance of Amestris Academy and in case you haven't guessed, that means that Envy and I went there, a lot. You know, when I thought he was a girl and he… I'm not sure what he thought I was. An extremely flirty friend? A gay guy? (Though given Envy's rather surprised reaction to The Incident and his incredulous response of "You're gay?!" I highly doubt that.) Or maybe Envy was just so happy to have a friend that he didn't care.

"Ed, you're going to miss the turn, stupid!"

"Shut up, Al, I know where I'm going!"

"Yeah, but you don't like going to Manny's anymore! Just because your stupid date turned out to be a guy!"

"I said shut up, Al."

"I'm just saying that you probably should be over this aversion to Manny's by now. It's stupid. Unless…" Al paused to consider something. I groaned. It's always worse when he starts _thinking_. "Unless all the couples make you jealous, knowing that there's no way you and Evvie—"

"Envy," I muttered under my breath. Only because I would never in a million years like someone, guy or girl, named Evvie.

"_Envy_ could ever be out in the open, for you harbor the love that dare not speak its name—"

"What about you and Fletcher then?" I asked, trying to head Al off.

"We're just friends, Ed. Just because he's gay doesn't mean he has to lust after every boy he sees. Just because Fletcher's gay and we're friends doesn't mean that he likes me. It doesn't have to mean anything. This is exactly why Fletcher has such a hard time making friends with other boys because even if he doesn't like them they think—"

"I wasn't talking about Fletcher, Al," I said pulling into a parking spot, grinning viciously. "I was talking about you. And how you have a crush on your best friend, who happens to be gay, and you won't do anything about it." I looked over at Al, expecting him to laugh it off or something. He was blushing slightly.

"Yeah right, Ed," he said, smiling but his cheeks were faintly pink. "Like that's true. It's like you and Roy; not going to happen."

Before I could protest that neither Roy nor I were gay, Al leaped out of the car and made his way over to the infamous place. I sighed and followed him. After all, what's the worst that could happen?

In retrospect, I really shouldn't ask that question, I thought and stared at the weird arrangement that had sprung up in the absence of Al. Apparently, Manny's was also the favorite loitering place of one Wrath Angeloff. This would've been bad enough, as it meant I was going to run into one of the other Angeloff children (I wasn't sure which would be worse, Sloth or Envy), had it not been for the fact that Wrath was encroaching on Al's perceived Al-Fletcher time.

Al, all things considered, is a pretty decent person. He's kind, generous, nice, but he has his flaws. Aside from being unforgivably weird and embarrassing, Al's also prone to bouts of jealousy. So when he wanted in on Fletcher chatting merrily with Wrath, he was a bit piqued.

The fact that Fletcher was actually paying attention to Wrath had irritated my brother so much he didn't even realize that Wrath was ogling him. I rolled my eyes and looked away. Normally, I would try to sit a couple of seats away from Al and Fletcher, but now, well, _someone_ had to keep Al from lunging at Wrath. Not that Wrath would particularly _mind_ if that happened, it's just that the other people in the store might and, knowing Al, he'd probably break something expensive.

I sighed and looked around the ice cream shop. Aside from watching a love triangle develop between my brother, his friend, and Envy's cousin, there wasn't much to do. The bell on the door rang as someone walked in and I looked up.

The _person_ (I'd already made _that_ mistake once today and I didn't intend on making it again) was androgynous and stick-thin—the baggy clothes didn't help—and I caught a glint of glasses from beneath the bedraggled dark green hair. My heart was in my throat and it hurt. I knew who it was, but I didn't want to. The _person_ was so...so vulnerable. It was there in the way the thin pale wrist moved, hesitating, then resting on the doorknob, as the person decided whether to close the door or not. The door closed and the thin wrist was hidden.

I couldn't take my eyes off of _her_ (it's not so bad if I pretend, right?). She—the_ person_ was so perfect that it hurts. I swallowed painfully. They looked up. I caught sight of the eyes—bright purple, never lavender—Envy. I sighed and looked down. I'd pretend that Envy was a girl, if it wasn't for the fact that he'd probably kill me for thinking that.

I glanced up, hoping, stupidly, that Envy wasn't going to come over, despite the fact that I'm pretty sure you can't get him in Manny's willingly—not since freshman year. Rose was a bit peeved when I wouldn't take her there. I think that may have had something to do with the fact that she wanted us to be a "real couple." Winry said it was because she felt threatened by my not-relationship with not-a-fucking-girl Envy. Of course, the next bit always included something on how stupid Rose was to feel threatened since I never took my eyes off her chest, chauvinistic male that I am.

Which is not entirely true. _Girls,_ straight girls even, had a hard time not looking at Rose's gigantic knockers. I mean seriously, they're huge… that and Rose was quite a bit taller than me in freshman year. It wasn't like I had a choice!

Envy glared at me when he reached the table. I scowled and rolled my eyes. It had been two years since that stupid Incident (and yes, it does deserve capital letters), and he still wasn't over it. It's not like it was my fault—okay, it _was_ my fault, in that I asked her—_him_ out, but it wasn't intentional. Alright, I _did _intend to ask Envy out, just I didn't think that Envy was a boy and I certainly didn't mean to, you know, out Envy to the entire student body.

Envy didn't seem to realize that, if that whole friends-flirting-asking—_thing _was some sort of grand scheme (and it wasn't) to out Envy in the most embarrassing and public way possible, I'd be dead right now. Al would've (quite cheerfully, mind) killed me. Fortunately, since Al lived in the same house for the duration of that unfortunate...crush, he knew that my feelings were entirely sincere.

He also spent weeks teasing me about it.

Fletcher was the one who made him stop.

"Wrath," Envy said flatly when he reached the table, "time to go."

"No," Wrath said, glaring at Envy. Al looked thrilled at the prospect. I would have pondered how things could get worse, but I didn't want Sloth to show up and suggest that Envy and I kiss so she could watch. Not that I would—killing that thought. Shouldn't think those things anyways, not going to happen regardless. Envy would rather bite his own tongue off than kiss me with that tongue, though if he knew about my piercing—okay, this really had to stop.

"Why don't you listen to your older brother?" Al asked sweetly.

"Why don't you take your own advice," I muttered, glaring at Al. Envy transferred his glare from Wrath to me, briefly, and then back. I fought the urge to roll my eyes. Honestly, could Envy be a little less mature?

"Come on," he said flatly, exasperated. "Can we just get the fuck out of here?"

"No," Wrath said, and then smiled suddenly. "Bet Sloth would love to know about this."

I think I flinched. Even though it was just a dream, I couldn't ignore the feeling that I'd rather be trampled by elephants that are on fire than let Sloth have anything—however remote—to do with my love life. Not that Envy was involved in my love life. Or any other Angeloff for that matter.

"Know about what?" Envy asked suspiciously, glaring at Wrath.

"This," Wrath said, grinning broadly. "She'd just love to hear about it. Imagine what she'd say. You and Eh—"

"Shut up!" Envy said and bit his lip. I looked at Envy. What on earth was he freaking over this time?

"Everyone here," Wrath finished, raising an eyebrow. "Oh, and I ran out of money, so if you want ice cream, you'd better buy it yourself."

Envy muttered something about Wrath's parentage and looked. That student pain in my chest was back. If Envy were a _girl_, I'd pass it off as my urge to be protective and shit, but it's Envy so it just hurt. I wanted to do something, but he'd kill me. After mocking me and yelling obscenities at me. But I couldn't help it. He looked so sad and helpless—and he'd kill me for thinking that.

"I'll be out in the car," he said, and turned away, shoulders stiff.

"Hey, Envy," I said, getting up quickly. If I did this slowly, I'd come to my senses and stop halfway through. Which would be fatal. I reached out to touch his arm and I don't know—comfort him? Fortunately, I wasn't not quite stupid enough to try that… yet. "My treat." Envy just stared at me, wide-eyed. I took a breath and touched his wrist before walking over to the counter. "I think I owe one for all the times you paid my way." I smiled in what I hope is a charming manner. It works on everyone, even Winry. It didn't stop him from shrugging away once we reached the counter.

"Don't be an idiot," Envy muttered. He looked down.

"Sorry, my bad," I said. "But really, let me buy you ice cream. It's the least I can do." Envy didn't say anything. He seemed shocked that I was being nice to him. Which is stupid, because we got along just fine before That Incident.

"Fine," he said grudgingly. "But I'll- I'll have...Roy pay you back for it. Or something."

"You'll owe Roy money, but not me?" I didn't even know why I thought it was necessary to push the point. But I mean, _Roy?_ Why the hell was Roy Mustang so much better than me? Nine out of ten girls would agree with Roy when he cheerfully states that he is a bastard. The tenth one is Winry, and she'd shout worse things. Compare that to when I say I'm a jerk. Nine out of ten girls would instantly protest that statement, saying that I might be a stupid, unobservant male, but at least my heart is in the right place and I make an effort. The tenth girl is Winry and she would once again be shouting that I am a chauvinistic Catholic male.

The woman behind the counter moseyed over to us, interrupting my thoughts. Which was good because I might've done something stupid, like voice them.

"What will it be, dears?" she asked with vibrant smile. She looked like the average grandmother, save for the fact that her wardrobe seemed to be inspired by Katy Perry. In fact, I'm almost positive that Katy Perry wore that pink polka dotted puffy-sleeved dress on that one show.

"We'll have a raspberry swirl with chocolate fudge sauce and chocolate sprinkles in a bowl, three scoops. And a...another three scope cone, mint, pistachio, and green tea please, with almonds on top. Also in a bowl," I said and smiled. Hell yeah I still remembered Envy's favorite. Not exactly hard, since it's the only thing he ever ordered. Still he looked so surprised.

"That'll be 10.70. For here or—"

"For here." I handed her a twenty. It was the smallest bill I had on me.

"Would you like a receipt with that?"

"Nope, I'm good."

I watched the woman scoop out the ice cream. Envy turned to me, eyebrow raised, "Pistachio?"

"I like green things," I said before realizing exactly how that sounds. I blushed and tried to make it better. "I mean, not that I like you or anything, because I don't—I mean, not that you're ugly or anything." Shut up, shut up, shut up, you're going from bad to worse… "You aren't actually and I swear, I just meant ice cream...I'll just shut up now."

I firmly closed my traitorous mouth. Hopefully my death at Envy's hands would be quick and merciful. Envy just blinked, like he couldn't believe what he just heard. I didn't blame him. I couldn't believe what I just said either. Finally he spoke:

"Whatever," he said. "Pistachio's nasty."

"Uh, well, I like it. Raspberry and chocolate go rather well together," I said, in a desperate attempt to make small talk. I think we might have had this exact same conversation on our first "date" here. Only Envy was a lot more forgiving then.

"Yeah, they do."

"Here you go," the serving lady said, handing me the bowls. I gave Envy his. Our fingers brushed despite my best intentions.

"Hey, do you want to, uh, sit down somewhere? I don't think that either of our brothers is willing to, er, there's not really room at the table, ah, and I, ah, well, I'd hate to intrude on their love triangle thing. It's like a soap opera and Al's sulking," I said, eyeing the free tables.

Envy just looked tense and unhappy. I felt like a jerk. I didn't mean to make it worse. I was only trying to help. Why did Envy always have to go and ruin my best intentions?

"Fine," he said.

"Here, uh, this table's free." I pointed to a random table. Envy followed me reluctantly. We sat down and I realized we had nothing to say to each other. Nothing! This was quite possibly the most awkward situation I'd ever been in—without Al. Even if I were to wake up, naked, in a bed with Envy (also naked), with my mom looming over me demanding to know what was going on while I suffered a weed-beer hangover of death and had no memory of the previous night, there are still some situations with Al that would be far more awkward.

"So what the fuck were you doing at Roy's house?" Envy said suddenly.

Taken aback, I responded with the first thing that came to mind: the truth. "We were just going over chapter 12. AP Chem. That's all, I swear. I'm not going to steal your boyfriend, Envy."

That was the wrong thing to say.

Envy banged one hand on the table and stood halfway, looking like he might punch me or bite my nose off, unpredictable psychotic bastard that he is. Now if only my wang realized the danger I was in, I could start thinking productive thoughts instead thinking about not thinking about how Envy would look really hot right now if he wasn't a guy.

"Roy's not my fucking boyfriend," he hissed at me.

"Geeze, Envy. I know that. Roy chases anything with boobs; it doesn't even have to move or have legs, just boobs. It's a joke. Though you're possessive enough that one would _think_ you two were dating," I said, glaring at Envy. He was so exasperating. Honestly. It was a joke. As in not true. Trust Envy not to get it. Though it was rather nice to hear the words from Envy's mouth. Not that I care, I mean Roy and Envy could be fucking for all I—okay _ewww _that would be gross. The fact that I wasn't displeased that Roy wasn't Envy's Significant Other meant nothing. I was just covering his bases—er, well, it was more that it was interesting to know and if I ever were to go for—stopping that thought.

"You're a dumb piece of shit, Elric," Envy said. "But I already knew that." He glared at me again. But he sat back down. Does this count as progress?

"You'd think that you'd be a little nicer to the person who just bought you ice cream and rescued you from Wrath, but nooo," I said, throwing my arms in the air and shrugging.

"You'd think I'd be a little nastier to the person who seems to make a habit of fucking up my fucking life," Envy returned, mocking my gesture. He glared at me, again. I scowled. I hadn't done anything to Envy. Except ask him out…and mistake him for a girl…and imagine him na—not going there.

"Come on Envy, we both know that's not true. Name one thing—outside of me asking you out—that I've done to specially ruin your life," I said, trying to be logical. "Look, Roy's done worse things to you and you still talk to him." Envy blinked as if the thought had never occurred to him (which it probably didn't, pea-brained bastard that he is), but then he gave me a nasty smile.

"Roy didn't show up here, for one," he said as if that settled everything.

"And how has that ruined your life? I don't think it compares to stealing your Match-Gram and announcing the results to the class. I think that Roy has me pretty much beat there," I said, smirking slightly. I took a vicious bite out of my ice cream.

"Oh, I'm sure you would have," Envy replied. "I recall you doing something awfully like that in freshman year. So leave Roy out of this, please."

"In case it managed to slip your puny little mind, I also got matched up with you. So I wouldn't exactly be likely to go inform the whole class. And I said, aside from that incident, I have done nothing to intentionally ruin your life. It's not my fault you can't get over it."

Envy stood up quickly. His chair clattered to the floor and the table rocked dangerously. Everyone in the shop was staring.

"That's easy for you to say, isn't it, you fucking hypocrite? It didn't make you the school's fucking fag in residence." His voice grew progressively louder until he was practically yelling. "Don't talk to me. You know nothing!" I just stared as Envy marched to Wrath's table and grabbed the boy, dragging him out of the booth. Al looked inordinately pleased. Fletcher just looked shocked.

"We're leaving," Envy said, glaring at Wrath. Wrath didn't protest.

"Look, Envy I didn't mean for that to happen," I said suddenly. I picked up Envy's chair and pushed it in. "That wasn't my intention at all." I walked towards Envy. I didn't even know why I was so fucking determined to make an effort.

"I don't care whose fucking fault it was," Envy snarled back. Wrath took this time to mime "call me" at Al, who naturally assumed Wrath was gesturing to Fletcher. "It happened, didn't it?"

"It was an accident! I didn't think. I shouldn't have said that, but Envy, it's been two years!"

"Yeah, really, you think?" Envy asked viciously. "And apparently you still haven't gotten the message." He finally looked me in the face. And I'm trapped. His eyes, his face, just so perfect—NO! Why the fuck are you leaning forward? Get control of yourself!

"Leave. Me. The. Fuck. Alone."

"I—fine." I sighed, looked down. I blinked. There was something in my eye. I looked up. "Talk to Roy. He misses you. You've really upset him." Envy stared at me, like that was the last thing on earth he expected me to say. It probably was. Whatever. It didn't stop him from walking out of the restaurant. He glanced back once, as if he'd thought of some witty comeback, then shook his head and got into his car.

"Hey, there," the woman from behind the counter said. She'd walked over.

"Look, I'm really sorry about that whole thing, do you want me to leave?" I asked her. She just grinned at me. Her hazel eyes sparkle from behind her butterfly wing glasses.

"Not at all," she said, then in louder tones. "It just sucks getting dumped on Valentine's Day." She has a Southern accent. The people who have been staring at me and Envy shrug and turn back to their food and conversations.

"I didn't—we didn't—I mean," I stammered out.

"Hush," she said, smiling as she led me over to a table in the back. "You two used to come here a lot a while back, didn't you?"

I just stared.

"Don't you look so surprised," she said, sitting down. Her big full skirt made a faint poofing sound as she sat down and I wondered, vaguely, if I wasn't in some bizarre remake of Grease. "Shirley Mitchell does not forget her customers, especially not as cute a couple as you were. Now, why did you two stop coming here? You and your girlfriend were just darling."

"Uh," I said. My face was bright red. I was being asked about my not-relationship with Envy by a woman old enough to be my grandmother. "Well, uh, she's not—I'm mean, he's—Envy's not my girlfriend, or boyfriend, or even friend. And I'm not gay."

"I never said you were sweetheart," Shirley said earnestly. "I have two gay nephews and darned if they aren't the cutest things. They've recently adopted too, twins."

"Uh." At this point I was speechless.

"Now anyways, you don't have to be gay, you could be bi, even. Now you just get right in there and win his heart. You two just remind me of me and this one girl I met in college. She was something. Unfortunately, she was into threesomes. I didn't want to share and if you met her, you'd know why, but that's another story. The point is, she was a spitfire and so is yours, so you just get right in there and don't let her—er, him, get away. Go get 'em tiger."

There are no words.

"Uh," I said again. It was almost as if Roy's stupid shout of "ENVY'S MATCHED WITH EDWARD!" had knocked reality off its axis and we'd been spinning in this alternate universe since then. Everything would make so much more sense.

"Good luck," she said cheerfully and winked at me. I just sat there, stunned.

The rest of the day was almost normal. Dinner was pleasant. Dad hadn't found the Match-Up Gram results yet, or at least he hadn't mentioned them. Al was too enraptured with his Kitler—kitten to even say anything about what happened at Manny's. I was simply left alone with my thoughts.

Chief among them: was it such a bad thing to like Envy?

The obvious answer was yes, of course it's a bad thing. He's a guy, you're straight, and aside from that, he hated you. Hell, he might not even be gay (which would explain why he was so pissed off at being labeled gay) though I seriously doubted that.

But as I lay awake, staring up at the dark ceiling, I couldn't help but wonder. What was so bad about liking Envy?


	11. Chapter 11

A/N by: Potions For Foxes

So, I've been waiting for this chapter since, oh, I don't know, some time around the sixteenth when I finished my chapter _twelve_ and started on fourteen only to realize that I needed to know what happened in chapter eleven in order to make fourteen that much cooler. This means that, once again, update reviews are rather useless things to give to odd chapters.

The point is, you don't need to leave an update review because I already have my next chapter done and within the week I'll probably have chapter fourteen finished and beta-ed, twice over. I mean, I've spent days on the first three pages (which are epic).

Now, on to the actual chapter: It's awesome. It is worth the wait. It is epic beyond belief. I love Indy. You see while Ed's conscious is just as confused as he is and is just trying to work things out with Ed (like the vast majority of us), Envy's is screaming at him and it sounds something like this: YOU IDIOT! I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU STILL DON'T GET IT, YOU MORON! IT'S RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOUR FACE! (Sloth agrees with Envy's conscious, as do most people in the vicinity)

And it is such an awesome chapter, very concentrated and so very, very awesome. And utterly and completely hilarious!

Leave nice reviews, leave lots of nice reviews, and maybe Indy'll let me update faster. (Also, I encourage you to pester/ask/beg her about chapter _thirteen_ because that's all that stands in the way of you getting chapter fourteen…)

ALSO NOTE: There's another story that just got a Chapter 11. It's starts with a "St" and ends with "sy" and there's a "uttering toward ecsta" in the middle…

Chapter by: indigo's ocean

Stupid Cupid

_(quit hitting on me)_

Chapter Eleven

I was standing in a roomful of mirrors. It was small and square, with barely enough room to stretch my arms out all the way (I knew because I tried, first thing), and everywhere I looked I saw an infinity of Envys staring back at me, with the same wide eyes, disheveled hair, and rumpled outfit. Fucking _freaky_.

Hating how wide and scared my eyes looked in the mirrors, I glanced up and saw another me glancing looking down, saw the reflection of my feet in the floor mirror reflected on the ceiling and the reflection of that mirror and - it was making my head hurt. Looking down, I squeezed my eyes shut as tightly as possible and opened them again. Nothing had changed. Except...

In the mirror directly in front of me, Ed's reflection was standing next to mine. I whirled around, and my myriad reflections did the same. But there was nothing. He wasn't even reflected in the mirror on the other side. When I looked back, Ed was staring directly at me. Or was it Ed's reflection? I shook my head. It was bad enough that he followed me around during the day, but this was -

"He's trying to say something," a voice told me from my pants. I jumped again and stuck a hand into my pocket, bringing it back out with the keys to Sloth's Jaguar. If that wasn't weird enough, a key chain had been added sometime when I wasn't looking. It was a miniature, rubbery purple and blue octopus, and looked extraordinarily familiar...

The octopus waved a tentacle in my face. "Hey, remember me?"

"No," I replied honestly. I couldn't recall ever meeting a key chain with talking seafood before.

"_Hello_," it said rudely. What a snarky cephalopod. "I was only your best friend until you started sixth grade."

I blinked at him, then blinked again. "Holy shit! _Vanessa_!" The key chain was a miniature, rubberized version of the giant stuffed octopus that had lived in my room until I entered middle school and decided I was too old for stuffed animals. Greed (surprisingly enough) had won it at a fair when I was two, named it Vanessa, and shoved it at me as soon as he got home.

"Yeah, actually, I never really liked that name," the octopus replied, and shrugged with two of its tentacles. Now that I really listened, it did kind of have a guyish voice. Huh. "But right now, we have bigger fish to fry." It gestured to Ed's reflection. "Pardon the pun."

The situation was so absurd I couldn't help but laugh a little. That is, until I met Ed's wide, blank eyes. He was saying something, his lips were moving, but I couldn't hear a word.

"See?" the octopus said, pointing at the mirror with one blue and purple striped tentacle. The gesture is reflected again and again until I have to blink or lose my sanity. "He wants to talk to you."

"But I can't hear him," I said. Always one for stating the obvious; that's me.

"Well, _duh_," the octopus - Vanessa - said. Apparently it shared my sense of sarcasm. Now I'm glad no one ever answered my wishes that stuffed animals could talk. "He's on the outside," it continued. "You can't hear him and he can't hear you."

I peered closer at the mirror, meeting my reflection's purple eyes before looking past them to Ed. "Then how come I can see him?"

"He's _talking_ to you," the octopus replied. Had it gotten bigger? "To anyone else, it'd be the equivalent of George Bush dancing in front of them naked except for a tie."

I closed my eyes. _So_ did not need that image. "Meaning Ed's a horny Republican?" I hazarded.

"Meaning you're an _idiot_," Vanessa said, smacking me with one of its tentacles. It felt like a light brush against my hand, but stung with pins and needles a few seconds afterward.

"Ow!"

"You deserved it." Vanessa _had_ grown, I noticed; the key chain was heavier and its tentacles were at least as long as my fingers. They twirled in the air as the octopus dangled from my hand. "Now, think. I know you're smarter than your grandmother thinks."

"That's not hard," I replied morosely, but when it raised a threatening tentacle I relented. "Okay, okay." I lifted a hand and pressed a few fingers to the glass. Except, it wasn't glass. I said as much to Vanessa. "Hey, this isn't glass."

"Of course not, dipshit. Why would it be glass?" I never knew octopi were such bastards.

"It's a mirror, isn't it?" I could see myself reflected in every single surface, so I had assumed...

"It's ice, you narcissist."

"What?" Surprised, I pressed both hands flat to the wall. Sure enough, it was bitterly cold to the touch. Ed was still outside. As I watched, he seemed to realize I couldn't hear him, then rushed forward to bang on the glass. I flinched back. "He's hitting me!"

"He's hitting the box, idiot," Vanessa replied, giving me an exasperated look as I scrambled backward until I was pressed against the opposite side of the cube. It was freezing to the touch, but it was solid and secure.

"He can't break it, can he?" I asked, panicked. Ed was mad. He had to be mad. He was shouting, and I didn't want the ice to break and fall on me. "_Can_ he?" I asked, shaking Vanessa on its key chain when the octopus didn't provide an answer. It was getting harder to hold at eyelevel. Vanessa was still growing.

It still didn't say anything, Ed continued his silent pounding against the ice, and I huddled in my corner, arms over my head (as if that could protect me from anything). Finally, the octopus sighed. Its tentacles were dragging on the ground in a messy pile and taking up my space, forcing me to press even further into the wall. "He wants to."

"He wants to _kill_ me?!" I squawked.

The octopus sighed again, this time in exasperation that was directed at me. "He wants to break the box. You're not the box."

"But it's - it's -" I scrambled for an answer. "It's mine! I need it!"

"He can't break it, then," Vanessa said, thoroughly confusing me.

"Why not?"

It gestured at Ed, and now its tentacle nearly reached the far wall. "He needs your help. The walls don't come down unless you want them to."

"That doesn't make any sense!" I cried. I was feeling a strange tickling sensation against the back of my neck. Swatting at it with my free hand (the other was, of course, holding Vanessa's key chain), I felt something wet land on my shoulder. "It's melting!" I cried, my panic doubling. "It can't melt! Don't let it melt!"

The drops increased, and Vanessa slapped me with its tentacle once more. Only this time, I didn't feel anything except a light brush, even though it was big enough to knock me down and crush me. "Listen to me!" it snapped, sounding desperate. "You have to get out!"

"It's melting!" I shouted at it. "I'm gonna drown!" Vanessa was huge and filling up my space and crushing me and I couldn't breathe, and the drops kept trickling down my neck, faster and faster.

"It's killing you!" Vanessa shouted back, and its voice had gotten deeper and louder as well.

"No shit it is! It's _melting_!" Ice cold water dripped down onto my head, my neck, and trickled down my back. Ed was still pounding on the wall, shouting. Vanessa's tentacles were flailing on all sides, leaving me stuck in a corner. I couldn't breathe. I was trying, but I couldn't breathe.

As my vision went black, the last thing I saw was Ed's golden eyes. He looked worried, like he was scared for _me_. That's how I knew it was a dream.

I woke slowly, confused - I was in my bedroom, my face was buried in my pillow, but something was still touching my neck. Like they were stroking my hair. Who would -

With a strangled yelp, I flailed my arms and flung my pillow over the side of my bed, hitting something soft with my other hand. "Vanessa?" I asked, still half-asleep.

"Ow," said someone. It wasn't Vanessa - they sounded like a girl. "You just punched me in the boob, Envy. Way to go." The pillow was picked back up from the floor and shoved at my face. "Who's Vanessa, anyway? Did you turn straight when I wasn't looking, or is it a guy in drag?"

"A talking octopus," I replied, rolling over and rubbing at my eyes. Sloth was sitting on the side of the bed. My hands went instantly to my neck. "What did you put there?" I said, brushing at my hair. "What did you do? A bug? If it was a fucking bug I'm going to fucking -"

Sloth gave me a look that could have curdled milk. "Why would I do that?" she asked. "I _hate_ bugs. As much as you."

It must run in the family, I thought, still looking at her suspiciously. "Then what was on my neck?"

She sighed. "I was just trying to wake you up," she said, looking discomfited for the first time in a while. "You know."

I raised an eyebrow.

Sighing again, she reached out a hand and stroked the back of my neck. "Like that, okay? You look really cute when you're sleeping and I didn't want to shake you awake..."

"I know your goal is to hook up with all the hottest people in our grade before you graduate," I said with a laugh that somehow turned into a yawn, "but I didn't know I was on that list too. You have no shame, sister."

"_Half_-sister," she said with a small smirk. "We're only half related, but I guess you're against that kind of incest too. And you're gay." Those were the only things keeping her from shagging me? It was times like these I was thankful I liked boys. "Unless you've taken a few steps down the straight and narrow path. Who's Vanessa?"

I rolled my eyes. "I _told_ you. Remember that big stuffed octopus I used to have on my bed?"

She blinked - "Oh, right..." - and changed the subject. "Yesterday Wrath told me you met someone with long blonde hair at Manny's. He told me you two started yelling at each other, and then you came and dragged him out. Is that right?"

"I thought Wrath was too busy ogling Ed's brother to notice what we were doing," I said, then, too late, clamped my mouth shut. Shit. I had just confirmed that the person was Edward fucking Elric.

Even though Sloth didn't acknowledge my little slip, I knew she had filed it away for later use and I wouldn't be able to lie and claim that I had just been talking to some random guy and it turned out we hadn't gotten along. Disagreed on politics, or something - as likely as _that_ sounded. "Will you tell me the story in your own words?" she asked.

I flipped back over on the bed so that my face was once again in the pillow and I could pretend Sloth wasn't there. "No," I grunted, knowing that I'd have to tell her _some_time, and probably sooner than later.

"Come _on_, En," she said, poking my shoulder. I tensed it. I cannot _stand_ it when she does that. "I'm not going to leave until you tell me."

"_Sloth_," I said, turning my head enough to give her a baleful look, "it's God knows _how_ early in the morning, I've just woken up, and I learned in a dream that my spirit guide is a talking octopus." There was a pause in which I wished she would leave and she... sat. Suddenly, a thought struck me. "Hey, what kind of key chains do you have for your car keys?"

"Just the dolphin one..." she said, peering at me worriedly. "Hey, are you -"

I blinked. "A dolphin? Fuck, that's almost an octopus!"

"O-_kay_," Sloth said, standing. "You're obviously still dreaming. You have an hour to shower and get dressed. I'll be waiting in the kitchen." And _finally_, thank God, she left.

---

I took two hours, just to spite her. One to try and fall back to sleep - like that could work, after my freaking _weird_ dream and Sloth's early morning visitation. And it was almost ten, so I took another hour in the shower and getting dressed, then sauntered upstairs around lunchtime.

Sloth was perched on a bar stool, demurely reading a book, and Greed was washing dishes. Every time I came into the kitchen when he was around, he seemed to be washing dishes. Maybe Pride paid him for it - I wouldn't be surprised, you know? Anyway, as soon as I dragged myself through the door, she sat up straight and put her book down. "So, would you like to tell me what happened yesterday?"

Always concise and to the point. I guess the good thing about Sloth is that she never beats around the bush, so you can count on your conversations being just as long as they need to be and no longer. "I wouldn't _like_ to tell you," I said, wondering why I had bothered to get up at all, "but I know I have to."

"Good, Envy," Greed said from the sink. "The woman is always the boss. Remember that and you'll go far in life." Fuck, I thought, ignoring his undoubtedly sage advice, he could hear us? It was bad enough spewing all of this to Sloth, and now it turned out I had a peanut gallery too. Oh joy of joys.

I slumped at a barstool, moaning something like "Fuck you all."

Sloth watched me, a too perky smile on her all too perky face. "Well, Envy?" she prodded, leaning forward a little. "Planning to spill, or do I have to drag it out of you?"

If I didn't know better, I would have told her to drag it out of me. But I knew she would, and it wouldn't be pleasant. So I sighed, and told her, knowing and hating the fact that she would find some way to use it against me and that Greed was listening too, which meant one more person to chastise me for my behavior. I knew how he worked.

"Okay. So when I went to Roy's house I was apologizing to him but apparently Ed was there too and I didn't know, you know, so I, um, got mad." I glossed over me storming out practically in tears, because they really didn't need to know that part. "And then I went to the ice cream parlor, and guess who was there?"

I told them the abridged version of events: Ed was there. Wrath wouldn't leave. Ed offered to buy me ice cream and I went along. No, Sloth, I don't know why. Maybe because I was a little fucked up in the head at the moment? Anyway. He bought me ice cream. My favorite flavor, too, without me telling him. Creepy, huh? We sat, awkwardly. I asked what he was doing at Roy's house. Of course I was polite, Sloth, why would I ever be rude? Heaven forbid! He said something about Roy being my boyfriend. I got mad. Shit happened. Et cetera.

"And so," I concluded, "I grabbed Wrath and Ed wouldn't stop following me, which was really annoying. He pretty much told me to get over myself, like what happened two years ago wasn't a big deal and stuff, and by then I was really mad. So I told him to just leave me the fuck alone, and then he told me to talk to Roy because I upset him, and then I left." I gave Sloth a patently fake grin.

During my recitation, Greed had finished the dishes, wiped his hands, and come to lean across us on the counter. He frowned. "Is the same Ed you were friends with in your freshman year? The one who, uh, thought you were a girl?"

Gritting my teeth and barely restraining the urge to punch him in the face, I nodded.

"We had our annual computer match-ups, you know," Sloth told him, "and he and Envy ended up matching. On crush matches, too, which is usually for the opposite sex."

Greed raised his eyebrows and whistled a little under his breath, but he didn't make a joke of it, for which I was grateful.

"And, Envy," Sloth continued, turning to me. "You mentioned something about Ed saying that Roy had done way worse things to you than he ever had. Which is _true_."

I bristled. "It is not!"

"Yes it is." As usual, she bulldozed right over my argument. "The only bad thing Ed _ever_ did to you was the whole freshman year incident, and he's regretted that ever since." ("No he hasn't," I muttered, but she ignored me.) "Compared to Roy, he's an angel! I mean, sure, he's your best friend, but sometimes he treats you like shit. I think him yelling about you being matched with Ed was just about as bad as the incident, you know?"

I couldn't meet her gaze when I said, "It wasn't that big of a deal... I mean, someone would have said it anyway... Ed was probably -"

"Last time I checked, it pretty much 'ruined your life.' Or did I hear you wrong when you were bitching to me in the car? I could've sworn..." Her voice trailed off and she smirked at me as Greed let out a rough chuckle. I wanted to kill them both. "Look, honestly - all Ed has ever done is to be _really_ nice to you. And since when was that a bad thing?"

Trying to summon an argument, all I could do was glare at her. "It wasn't like that -" I began.

She interrupted me. Again. Sometimes I wondered why I ever bothered to open my mouth in a conversation with her. "Even that time freshman year when he wanted to ask you out - it wasn't his fault that he didn't know you were a guy."

"_Bullshit_!"

Holding up a hand to silence me, she conceded that point. "Okay, maybe he was an idiot, but he's a high school guy. All - well, most high school guys are idiots. It wasn't _intentional_, though. He would never do something like that. Even if he did go around for nearly a year afterward shoving his tongue down the throat of the hottest girl in school. But who can blame him?" Her smile was full of honey and, dare I say, lust? "She's so..." Sloth coughed. "Anyway."

Greed raised an eyebrow and even I couldn't help a small smirk. "Set on a new conquest?" I asked, thinking for a second that maybe I could turn the conversation around.

We were both astonished when she blushed and coughed again, then changed the subject rather clumsily. "That's not what we're talking about, Envy," she said, and Greed's eyebrow nearly shot up off his forehead. I rolled my eyes. Go figure. "Seriously, though, Ed really did care for you."

"Didn't stop him from ignoring me once he found out I was a guy," I grumbled with remembered fury. Fucking _bastard_.

"No," Sloth replied sweetly. "But maybe that had more to do with you punching him, and ignoring all his calls or cussing him out, and blocking him on AIM..."

Well, what the hell was I supposed to do? Pretend nothing had happened and that everything was just fucking peachy? I didn't say that out loud, of course. Knowing Sloth, she had a comeback all set and ready to go.

"But seriously, he cared about you. I think he still cares, too! I mean, guys don't remember their ex's favorite ice cream if they didn't care." (She pretended not to hear my muttered, "He's not my fucking _ex_.") "You know, lots of guys don't even remember the favorite ice cream of the girl they're dating. But he knew, and he could rattle it off like you had just gone there yesterday."

"So?" I asked sullenly. I couldn't really understand the import of that. It was just a fucking ice cream flavor. No big deal.

"_So_," she said, tapping her fingers against the counter in affected impatience, "you should stop being such a dumb-ass. Try _not_ to make any more scenes like that in public and give Ed a chance." She flicked a red-painted nail at my arm. "Who knows, he might even still like you."

I sneered. "Yeah, because his behavior is _really_ gonna make me want to take him back. And anyway, Mr. Hetero doesn't like anyone but girls. _You_ of all people should know that." I glared at her. "You've only been flirting with him for the whole school year."

She dismissed my accusation with a wave of her hand. "On and off, on and off, you know." Then she paused, a wicked smirk crossing her features, and my stomach dropped a few feet. She'd thought of something. "He seems like the perfect guy. So caring, so decent... If he really liked someone, he'd want to be their best friend. He'd do anything." Another pause, this time for effect, and I wondered with trepidation what she would say next. "Actually, I've been thinking of asking him out myself!"

Whatever effect she meant the words to have was evidently lost. Greed and I exchanged a glance - his with an eyebrow raised, again, mine silently asking _What the fuck is wrong with my sister_? I forced a laugh. "What? After all the effort you've spent already on trying to get us together?"

"_Jealous_?" she asked with a nasty grin, and my fake smile faded.

"Uh, no," I replied. "You're _welcome_ to him."

Sloth peered at me, probably searching my expression for any hints of untruth. I blinked and held up as innocently as possible under her scrutiny. "Fine," she said after a while, grabbing up her book and standing abruptly. "_Fine_. Be an oblivious bonehead. _Don't_ see what's staring you right in the face."

I was a little surprised at her sudden lack of composure, but hell, I wasn't going to allow the opportunity to slip away. "Besides you, I don't really see anything." To my right, Greed gave a chuckle.

Exasperated, Sloth heaved a sigh. "Fine," she said again, and then, when she was halfway out the door and I was beginning to hope that she wouldn't be coming back, she turned. "But what in the world will you do when Al and Wrath start dating?"

---

When it became abundantly clear that she was safely away, Greed and I exchanged a look. I still didn't like him that much, but in a house full of crazy females (and Wrath), I had learned the exasperated "_Women_" expression when I was about seven. I'm pretty sure Greed had been born with it.

"So," Greed began after we had unanimously rolled our eyes. "Rose, huh?" I had thought he would be asking after Wrath first, given the fact that Wrath was his _son_, but then again, Greed had figured out his priorities a long time ago. "She stacked?"

I placed a hand on my chest, over my black t-shirt. "As big as Sloth's. Even bigger."

"She lesbian?"

I shrugged. "Who knows? She dated Ed for a long fucking time, and had no problem with him groping her whenever he wanted."

"Huh." Greed rested his chin on his hand. "So... Ed?"

"He's not stacked," I said preemptively, just in case. Greed's questions about our classmates-slash-love interests were known to verge on the bizarre. "And he's about as straight as that iron rod up your brother's fucking ass."

"Huh," Greed said again. "I think you're acquainted a little too intimately with Pride, knowing things like that."

I rolled my eyes. "_Fuck_ you," I said, but it came out like an exasperated sigh. Sloth's grilling had tired me out even after nine hours of sleep - go figure.

"Anyway," Greed continued - and damn, was he planning to keep this conversation going all day or something? But at least he wasn't actively trying to set me up with Ed, unlike Sloth, so I suppose his interrogation was a bit of an improvement. "That guy, Ed..." Or _not_, since everyone and their fucking uncle seemed interested in Edward _jerk-off_ Elric today. "What did he used to call you? I remember Sloth telling me about it. A really cute nickname..."

I twitched. "No."

"No?" Greed asked, raising an eyebrow. "Your nickname? That's not cute at all."

"Not _no_," I said, exasperated. "No as in there is _no_ way I'm telling you. Or anyone. It's not like it matters." I glared at him.

He tapped his fingers against the polished granite of the counter. "It's on the tip of my tongue, I swear... Suh... Sucker? Ahaha that can't be it. Hmmm..." I hunched my shoulders and glared at him. Yeah, I could have left, but then who knows what Greed would have told Sloth, or daddy-Pride for that matter? And anyway, I've never learned when it's better to just leave. "Sun... Sunny... That was close, I can see it in that little twitch in your left eyebrow."

I snorted.

"That's it!" Greed cried. "Not your phlegm, I mean. He called you Little Miss Sunshine!"

My shoulders tensed and I clenched my hands into fists in my lap. "Fuck. _You_."

"Ah, and now I know why he stuck with that whole 'Little Miss' thing. Bet it confused the hell out of you, right?" Greed chuckled, and I snapped. I couldn't help it. I mean, here he was, mocking me, like this shit was _funny_. And, I mean, o-_kay_, it was a little funny, but he didn't have a right to be laughing anyway!

"You stupid piece of _shit_," I hissed, launching myself across the countertop, the barstool clattering to the floor forgotten as I landed with my knees in Greed's chest and clawed for his throat. Surprised, he staggered back with an '_Oof_' and his back collided with the counter. One of his flailing arms hit me across the side of my head, but I gritted my teeth and held on.

Greed managed to right himself. "You crazy little _bitch_!" he cried. "What gives? Why the hell is it such a big deal?" He grabbed my wrists with his big, callused hands and forced them away from his throat. I let go only because the alternative was gaining a few broken bones. With my luck, I'd have bruises anyway.

But I was still fighting, scrabbling at his stomach and thighs with my feet and even snapping at him, I think. I swear, Greed has muscles as hard as a rock, because there's no way a normal person could have stayed standing underneath my onslaught. Or so I like to think, anyway. Still, we ended up like I knew we would (had I taken a moment to think before acting) - me pinned to the floor with Greed's knee digging into my thigh and my wrists caught under his grip.

"Looks like you're... raping me," I managed between heavy breaths.

His grin was feral. "Let my dearest brother think what he wants. You must've inherited your _psychotic_ gene from your mother."

I mirrored his grin. "Why? Did she _fuck_ like I _fight_?" Sloth's theory was that Wrath's mother was actually _my_ mother - in other words, Greed had fucked his brother's crackwhore. I didn't like contemplating that, as it was disturbing to think how Wrath would be related to me. A three-quarters brother, maybe? But anyway, it made my brain hurt. Even worse was Sloth's _other_ theory, that Wrath was actually _daddy-Pride's_ child with my mother - in other words, yet another illegitimate brother. And that would make him a full brother. I didn't want that _at all_.

Greed's laugh was deep and throaty and made me cringe a little. "You'll find out when you're older, _nephew_," he said leeringly. "But why the hell did you try to go all Jackie Chan on me?"

If I were to describe my own actions, the last celebrity I would've compared them to was Jackie Chan. Maybe a combination of a bumbling Jack Black in _Nacho Libre_ and a drunken member of the _Charlie's Angels_ cast - and even I felt my masculinity was insulted by _that_ one. "Don't _ever_ call me that," I spat at him.

"Call you what?" he asked mockingly. "Sunshine? Sunny? Little Miss? Got gender identity problems, neffie-poo?"

I struggled and would've spat in his face, if not for the sad fact that the laws of physics still applied and whatever saliva I managed would end up on my own face anyway. "_Never_ call me that. Ever." I didn't want to hear that nickname in the first place, but when Greed said it with that mocking smile - it was... it was bad enough to start with, that I had to remember _Ed_ calling me that with his _stupid_ smile...

"Okay, okay, nickname's off limits," Greed said in a tone of voice that let me know clearly he was humoring me. There was an awkward pause, in which I turned my head away - sure, one side of my face was pressed uncomfortably to the cold tile, but it was better than being face to face with my creepy uncle in a position like this. Otherwise, I didn't move. My right leg was beginning to fall asleep where Greed was kneeling on it. "Hey, what's your last happy memory of this place?"

"What?" I asked, surprised. I was expecting him to say something along the lines of 'Okay, okay, we've both made our points' and then he'd get the fuck off me. But he appeared to have no intention of moving anytime soon, especially after a question like that.

"You know what I mean. When was the last time someone in this household actually made you smile? No, don't give me that look." I had been giving him the _What the hell are you asking that for it's not like I'd be smiling anytime soon with you on top of me like this_ look. "Come on." He shook my wrists a little. "Give it up. Oh, and Sloth doesn't count. I don't want to hear anything with her."

I stopped to think - and genuinely think. Smartass comments would give me more time in the doghouse, so to speak, or rather, the "pinned-by-a-two-ton-weight" house. "Um... Well, there was this one time when Lust came back from a gig and decided that she had to cook for us. So she tried to make this cherry and coconut flavored dessert, you know, but she can't cook at all and it turned out into this slightly burnt, too-sweet mess. And she made me eat it anyway, but it was actually kinda good." I was grinning at the memory of her distress, and her helpless laughter when we shared the first piece.

"And how long ago was that?" Greed asked me. I was surprised by his serious demeanor.

"Gah, I don't know." I stopped to think for a while. "That must've been back in seventh grade..."

"That's four years!" Greed said, shaking me again. "Four years. And I'm sure you've had plenty of good times with Sloth, but... you need someone else you can be happy with."

I blinked. "Excuse me?" I had Roy, and Sloth, and Selim was always good for laughs too - though they mostly occurred at his expense, _you_ know. And, and, I mean, some of Kimbley's jokes were funny but then again laughing with someone didn't mean you were happy with them. Fuck.

"You need someone who can make you happy," Greed repeated. "Just... just think about that." He got up with a grunt, digging his knee into my thigh as he stood and grunting. "Ah, these old bones of mine aren't good for fights like this anymore."

I stayed sprawled out on the floor long after he left, even though the tiles never really got any warmer beneath me. Greed had told me to think, and I couldn't help it. I _understood_ the point he was trying to get across, and that... that opened up a disturbing range of possibilities. Of things I swore I'd never think about again.

Sometimes I wish Grandma Dante was right, and I really was thicker than a rock.


	12. Chapter 12

A/N by: indigo's ocean:

Hi there, again! We're updating rather sooner than I expected but I suppose everything we do, we do for you. Moving on: it is my belief that all relationships require a healthy amount of abuse. Though the definition of 'healthy' is extremely relative and I'm probably totally wrong, yep, that's what I think. Except by abuse I don't mean Britney Spears and "Hit Me Baby One More Time", I mean... Uh, I don't know what I mean. I consider it abuse that PFF forces me to write more and write fast so we can update at a decent rate, but at the same time it motivates me and keeps me interested in the story! And in return, I offer her snark and bitch at her (a little) - but it's also my belief that everyone needs a little snarkiness or their day has been a waste. And Indy needs a kick in the ass to keep writing, doncha know.

Ahahaha but I don't think I'm making any sense at all. Blame PFF for keeping me up until 2:30 AM, roleplaying _a certain scene_ for the next chapter. (No, it's not sex, so you can keep your pants on and your tongues in.) But, once again, it was abuse. And it was all for you guys. So you should appreciate the fact that I'm rather sleep-deprived, because it means we're Getting Things Done. Or something.

Yep, I'm done now.

Chapter by: Potions For Foxes

**Stupid Cupid**

(quit hitting on me)

Chapter Twelve

I was actually glad it was Sunday. Despite the fact that Sunday means church and church means that Dad sulks around the house trying to make us late, drives like a maniac to get there where we end up sitting in a pew for what feels like forever while the priest blithers on in Latin, and then I try to get out of Youth Group duties with Russell and Winry.

So why am I looking forward to this?

Because it means I'm guaranteed to see Winry and Russell, and I need advice. I don't even want to think about asking Ling for advice on anything, let alone matters that involve sexuality, his or mine. Besides, Ling doesn't so much as give advice as he asks maddening questions that have nothing to do with the subject being discussed.

That and he might try to make out with me, again. He'll say he really enjoyed that time in the club and the tongue piercing just adds to it, and then while my brain is trying to process all that, he'll swoop in and then I won't move and then because Ling really is an excellent kisser I'd—yeah. You can see why I don't even want to hint that I may not be straight to Ling. He'd take it as an invitation.

Plus, hot as he is, he's not Envy.

Which brings us back to the main problem: Envy.

I mean, I'd know if I were gay, right? Things like sexuality don't just sneak up on you like that. Right? Not that I would know or anything. Since I'm straight or at least I think I am, was? I don't know. I should probably talk to Fletcher but. But he's my brother's friend and all things considered I don't know him well.

I looked around for Russell as we walked into the old church. I sighed. The Church of St. Mary Magdalene is a very beautiful church. It's the type of church that _looks _like a church from the outside, not like the modern churches that, save for the cross on the top, are indistinguishable from dentist offices, gymnasiums, or football stadiums. The Church of St. Mary Magdalene is very old-fashioned in the respect. I don't mind it really. There are long rows of large stained-glass windows. The ones near the ceiling feature scenes of Heaven, complete with frolicking angels and cherubs. I don't know if that was done on purpose or not, but when the sun reaches a certain angle the whole church starts to light up.

The priests are definitely aware of this. They always time it so that by the time we're done singing the gathering song and begin the service, the whole church is bathed in light. Even though I know it's just a trick of the light, and that the priests are exploiting this feature of the church to ensure that the flock is in the proper mood, I can help but feel… spiritual and somewhat calmed.

The atmosphere of St. Mary's has the same effect on Al and Mom. Dad just looks vaguely uncomfortable the entire time. Oh the woes of the unindoctrinated.

The priest stood up, made the sign of the cross, and said:

"In nomine patrie, et fili, et spiritu sancti."

This is the part about St. Mary's that I don't like. The entire service is in Latin. The only one in my family who can understand what the priest is saying is Mom. The rest of us are completely clueless. Well, not completely, I have the Mea Culpa memorized in Latin and a couple other things, but other than that, it's like they're speaking Greek.

I'm still looking for Russell by the time we rise to sing Gloria in Exclesis Deo. I don't see him and by the time we're done and have sat back down, I've come to this conclusion: Russell's not at church. I saw Fletcher and the rest of the family, but no Russell. After the priest chanting something (possibly the Collect, by I zoned out, so I'm really sure anymore), I slipped out my cell phone, keeping an eye on my mom, and texted Russell. (I was sitting between Dad, who's trying to stay awake, and Al, who's probably doing something similar.)

_Where are you??!??!_

Seconds later the reply:

**RsslTrghm: **Hahaha! Church boy! Have fun with Bishop Sour-face!

I sighed. Of course, Russell's ditching church. Some Catholic he is. Still it explained why the text came from his computer and not his cell.

_Fucktard. Russell, I think I might like Envy. Help?_

**RsslTrghm: **Doesn't he hate you or something?

_Yes. _

**RsslTrghm: **Know why?

_Freshman year. And the fact that he blames everything on me. Despite the fact that Roy's done worse, but no, he's Envy's friend. _

**RsslTrghm: **Hmm.

_That's all you can say?!??_

**RsslTrghm: **Okay, you know Hey Jude?

_Patron saint of hopeless causes? Thanks a lot Russell._

**RsslTrghm: **No. The song by the Beatles, stupid.

_Saint or Hey what's the difference?_

**RsslTrghm:** Way to offend two very large and powerful groups at once.

_Explain._

**RsslTrghm:** Catholics and Beatles fans.

_You suck._

**RsslTrghm:** But whatever. The song. "Hey Jude, don't make it bad. Take a sad song make it better. Remember to let her into your heart, Then you can start to make it better.

**RsslTrghm: **Hey Jude, don't be afraid. You were made to go out and get her. The minute you let her under your skin, Then you begin to make it better. And anytime you feel the pain hey Jude, refrain,

**RsslTrghm: **Don't carry the world upon your shoulders. For well you know that it's a fool who plays it cool By making his world a little colder. Hey Jude, don't let me down.

**RsslTrghm: **You have found her, now go and get her. Remember to let her into your heart, Then you can start to make it better. So let it out and let it in, hey Jude, begin,  
You're waiting for someone to perform with.

**RsslTrghm: **And don't you know that its just you, hey Jude, you'll do,  
The movement you need is on your shoulder. Hey Jude, don't make it bad. Take a sad song make it better.

**RsslTrghm: **Remember to let her under your skin, Then you'll begin to make it  
Better, better ,better, better ,better, better, oh.

**RsslTrghm: **You get the idea? Just replace the hers with hims and you'll be golden. Now, you should probably start paying attention, lest your mom catch you again. Toodles!

I slipped the phone into my pocket. Russell was no help whatsoever. Perhaps I should be grateful. He could've sent me "I Am The Walrus" or something equally nonsensical. At least Hey Jude makes as much sense as the average song.

Still I'm confused enough as it is. I don't need to go wading through song meanings to figure out what to do. Oh God, if Envy were just a girl I wouldn't be having these problems.

Perhaps I should make a list. Sadly the only paper around me is in hymnbooks and bibles. And there aren't any pens. And my mom would kill me in the House of God before she let Al or I write stuff other than our names, the names of our spouses, and our children, in a bible.

I have always liked girls. I still like girls. I have had successful relationships with girls. The idea of having sex with a girl turns me on. All the girls I have liked and/or dated have had large boobs. They don't look like guys. They don't act like guys.

I have made out with Ling. Granted it was just to piss Lyra off, but it was—shit, it was even my idea. And I, I think I pretty much had Ling up against a wall (not that he was complaining. Opportunistic bastard was groping my ass) before Lyra pried us apart to shout at me.

And there have been moments where I have given guys the same kind of passing notice I give to girls. You know, like you see a pretty face in the hallway and you're kind of curious about them. Sometimes you end up as friends or just crushing on them or ignoring them or just forgetting about it. Just, they're randomly interesting.

So, I've kissed girls and I've kissed guys and I've liked both.

I like girls though.

And Envy.

Fucking Envy.

But kissing is just kissing. From what I've seen and read and imagined, sex with girls is definitely appealing. Naked chicks are good too. And it's not just sex either. Pursuing a relationship with a girl also holds interest for me (provided there's sex as well). And if gay is defined as a guy feeling sexually and emotionally attracted to males, then it follows that I am not gay.

But I made out with Ling. And then, Envy and all that shit.

Well, kissing guys (at least Ling, though I sure as hell wouldn't mind kissing Envy, assuming he wouldn't bite my tongue off or anything.) is also good. I definitely like that. Ling got away with several "Look there's Lyra—" make-out scenes, which is more than a completely straight male would allow. Actually, a completely straight male probably wouldn't do it the first time. Fuck, when did a completely straight male cease to be me?

Fuuuuck.

Straight is ruled out.

But so is gay.

Definitely not asexual.

Bi?

Could I really?

Well, that certainly makes things simpler. Now the only problem I have with liking Envy is the fact that he hates me for something I did freshmen year. Something that doesn't even matter now because I don't think I care if he's a guy anymore.

Heh, wonder what would happen if I went up to Envy and just told him that I didn't care if he was a guy, I still wanted to date him.

Hmmm. Maybe I should tell Envy I'm bi first.

I'm BI!

This actually came as a major relief; like a weight I hadn't known existed was lifted off of my chest and I could finally breathe. I'm bi. I can't help but smile at that. I'm—it's freedom really. And I want to tell everyone but… but why not? I mean, I'm not going to lose any friends. Russell and Ling are fairly open about their levels of unstraightness. As for Winry, anyone who reads that much gay fanfiction cannot have a problem with gays or bi guys.

Any my parents _adore_ Fletcher.

And it's not like I'm gay, so they have a fifty-fifty chance of getting grandchildren and a daughter-in-law out of me.

As for school, well, Ling and Russell manage fine. Anyone who's ever gone to a party with Russell realizes very quickly how undiscriminating he is. He used to have a bit of a crush on Envy back when I thought Envy was a girl. Man was that an uncomfortable time. We got in a couple of fights over "her." Winry finally had to explain to Russell that it'd be for the best if he would keep his observations on Envy's ass to himself.

Then there was that one time Russell came back from this party and told me that dumping Envy because he was a guy was the biggest mistake I'd ever made. Apparently I was missing out. I was ready to slug him when he said "What, Ed, you aren't _envious_, are you?"

He never did tell me what kissing Envy was like.

Shit! I'm thinking about Envy, again.

Maybe I'll IM him when I get him—wait, no, I'm pretty sure he put me on his blocked list during freshmen year when I kept trying to apologize. If I call him, he'll just hang up on me. I'd go knock on his door, but I've never been to his house.

I made a beeline for Winry after Mass was over. Her advice wasn't as good as Russell's (who gives pretty good advice when he's not spouting song lyrics), but it was better than Ling's. I don't even want to think about what Ling would say if I told him.

"Winry!" I said. She looked up. "I have to talk to you."

"Ed," she said pausing. "I'm going to teach Sunday school." I stopped. Wasn't that normally Noah's job? I said as much.

"She's really sick today and she called me, poor thing she could barely speak, She's got this terrible cold."

"Is Miss Noah going to be okay?" a small child asked worriedly. Winry smiled benevolently and patted his head.

"She's going to be just fine, Timmy," Winry said, turning back to me. "Make it quick Ed." The small boy looked confused.

"I'm not Timmy," he said.

"Robert, then," Winry said quickly. "They're twins." She smiled again.

"Timmy and Robert moved away months ago," the boy informed Winry. He doesn't look like he thinks she's an adequate replacement for Noah.

"Um, well, Winry, I'm—"

"Ah, Edward, I haven't seen you in a very long time."

I froze. I know that voice. I don't want to turn around, but I can't ignore him. Mom will never let me hear the end of it.

"Hello Mr. Jones," I said, turning to face him. Mr. Jones is the man in charge of coordinating things like Youth Group and Sunday school. He's been trying to get me to do more with the church since I turned twelve and stopped going to Youth Group. He is incapable of understanding that the only reason I come to church every Sunday is my mom.

"Would you like to join Winry in teaching Sunday school today?" he asked. He wore a pleasant expression. I fought the urge to flee. Mr. Jones has that slick look of a politician, and not the Barack Obama type. Nope, instead he looks like John "Cheats On His Cancer Stricken Wife" Edwards crossed with a dentist. My dad cannot stand him either. Al thinks he's a bit creepy. Mom says she wishes they'd hired a woman instead, only because women are better at multitasking.

"Sure," I said, ignoring Winry's astonished look. "Why not?"

"Good," Mr. Jones said before walking away. "I'll go tell your mother."

I winced. Mom was going to want to know why I was doing this and 'Well, I needed to talk to Winry about the fact that I just realized I'm bi and still like Envy' wasn't something I wanted to tell her just yet. Or ever.

"What on earth could you possibly want to tell me?" Winry asked in a whisper as we walked to the back rooms of the church. The kids were ahead of us, chattering amongst themselves about God knows what. I paused. How to say this?

"I'm bisexual and I like Envy," I said, keeping my face bland. Winry stopped dead, her eyes wide as saucers.

"You're kidding," she said, smiling. "This is some sort of a joke right? You Edward Elric less than straight?"

"Shh," I said. She looked at me worriedly.

"Are you not—?"

"No, Winry but I'd rather not have the parents of these brats finding out just yet. You know?" I hissed at her.

"Okay, well, everyone knows that Envy's not straight," Winry said, finally moving again. "And if you're bi." She grinned. "Oh this is good! You're bi! Oh sorry, I shouldn't shout. But he's not straight, you're not straight, what's the problem?"

"He _hates _me," I moaned, resting my head on her shoulder. For once she's not wearing heels and I can actually do it, instead of just leaning my head against her arm.

"Ummm," Winry said. "Why would he hate you?"

"Freshman year," I muttered darkly. "He wasn't exactly thrilled about the whole guy yelling thing. And then yesterday at Manny's, it was, it's been, he _hates_ me."

"You're sure it's not just a misunderstanding?" Winry asked as she opened the door to one of the small classroom. Noah's notes were on the table and Winry looked over them. "Umm, print your name on this piece of paper." She grabbed a blank sheet at random. "And then we'll, I'll go through the lesson plan."

"Oh," I interjected, foreseeing a possible problem. "If anyone needs to go use the bathroom, now would be a really great time. You all know where it is right?" The children nodded nod and most of them scampered off.

"Ed! I can't let them out of my sight!" Winry said, glaring at me. I sighed. So much for talking to her alone.

"I'll go make sure they don't get lost or run into Mr. Jones or something," I said and went down the hall to follow the kids. They were already forming nice, neat queues at the doors to the bathrooms. I sighed. These kids were perfectly fine on their own.

"ED!"

I turned around. It was Fletcher. I frowned. What on earth was Fletcher doing here? Didn't he normally go home after church?

"Mr. Jones said you'd be here," Fletcher said breathless. "Teaching Sunday school?"

"Uh yeah, long story," I said.

"I'm supposed to get a ride home with you, but your mom had already left. Al's mad about yesterday and stuff and I guess he wants to spend time together _without _Wrath. And dude, what's up with you and that girl who picked Wrath up? I thought girls loved you?"

I looked into Fletcher's innocent blue eyes. Oh how I want to strangle—but I mustn't. I'm in the House of The Lord and there are too many witnesses. Al would probably kill me too.

"You," I said. "Are going to keep track of those kids. I am going to go talk with Winry. Alone. Distract them. Keep them busy. And don't ever let Envy know you thought he was a girl. He will hate you for _years_."

"Ah, okay," Fletcher said. "I'll go do that."

"Good," I said and turned on my heel.

"You lost them?!" Winry shrieked when I opened the door.

"No, God, calm down woman," I said, closing the door. "Fletcher was supposed to ride home with my family but he didn't find them in time, so he's stuck with us. I told him he could supervise. He's trustworthy."

"Okay, but," Winry said, not convinced.

"Don't worry," I said.

"So, you and Envy?" she said after a while. She still hadn't found the lesson plan for today.

"Yeah, right," I said. "I wish. He _hates _me. He still hasn't gotten over the whole freshmen year thing—which was a complete accident. How was I supposed to know he wasn't a girl? And then he _screamed _at me in Manny's in front of everyone. I bought him ice cream, dammit."

"Why don't you tell exactly what happened," Winry said, sitting on the large desk. Her legs swung back and forth. She looked at me. I sighed, ran a hand through my hair, and leaned back against the desk next to Winry.

"Oh God, where to start?" I asked. I didn't receive an answer. I didn't expect one either. "Okay, well, I have AP Chem with Roy. And yesterday I went over to his house to go over chapter twelve with him. Just review and stuff, you know? And then he gets this call from Envy, who I guess is feeling like a jerk for the scene at lunch and not answering Roy's calls—"

Winry raised an eyebrow.

"It's not like that, I only know because Roy spent what felt like _hours _moaning about Envy ignoring him. So then he comes over and I see and—this is where it gets really stupid—"

"It gets worse?" Winry asked. "How can it get worse?"

"I thought he was a girl." From the look on Winry's face, she assumed I acted on it. "I didn't _tell _Envy that. I just thought that she—_he_ was one of Roy's flames or something. I mean, sh—_he_ was so gorgeous, he's just—"

"Save it Ed," Winry said, giving me a bored look. "Everyone already knows what you think about Envy. In case you've forgotten, we listened to you go on and on about Envy in freshman year. I don't think much has changed." She paused then continued in a lower voice. "And—and she's just you know, like perfection. Like my dream girl, and I really don't want to screw this up, guys. Russell." Winry waved her arms around madly. "If you even look at Envy with something less than platonic in your eyes I will—"

"Okay, fine, I get the idea," I muttered. God, had I really been like that? Probably. I mean, I talked to my _mom_ about "her." I really had—have it bad.

"So, then what happened?" Winry prompted, examining her long nails.

"He saw me, yelled at Roy again, and left. Then when I'm dropping Al off at Manny's guess who also shows up?" I said, pushing away from the desk.

"Oh no," Winry said, sympathetically. "When did he start yelling?"

"Well, he was trying to get his cousin Wrath to leave, but Wrath didn't want to because he was _staring lustfully at my brother_. And Envy was going to wait in the car, so I offered to buy him ice cream."

"And he let you?"

"Well, yeah, I mean it's no fun to sit and watch other people eat it. And besides he didn't look happy and he was upset and—"

"At least when your brother brings home stray animals, it's somewhat normal," Winry muttered darkly. I pretended I didn't hear that. "You befriend stray and strange _people_."

"So, we sat down. He asked me why I was at Roy's house. I told him the truth. Probably shouldn't have mentioned the part about not stealing his boyfriend. Envy flipped out. He accused me of ruining his life. I told him that I had done no such thing—apart from freshman year. And then he pretty much said that I would have yelled out his match results to the whole class if Roy hadn't, which is stupid because I was matched with him too. And even if I didn't, I wouldn't. I don't do things like that. Then he brought up freshman year. I told him he should get over it, which apparently was the wrong thing to say. I mean it's been two whole years and he's still mad at me? I tried to apologize too."

"Maybe he thought the whole thing was some sort of trick?" Winry suggested calmly. "Like you were just doing this as a joke?"

"But I wasn't! I tried to tell him that freshmen year, but he wouldn't listen. Besides, Winry, you know me," I said, turning to look at her. I ran both my hands through my hair. "I couldn't do something like that."

"That's the thing Ed, I know you. Envy doesn't," Winry said. She fiddled with the hem of her skirt. "What else did he say?"

"Something about being the fag in residence at school and how I don't understand anything. Which is stupid because it's common knowledge that both Russell and Ling _aren't _straight and _they _don't get teased and shit," I said, slumping against the desk. Envy really hated me and, this is stupid, I think I loved him. Like really loved him. I fell for him the instant we made eye contact, but then we became friends and he's, he's really funny and sweet too. He's so vulnerable and fragile and I—I kind of spent the first part of freshman year hating Sloth because she was such a bitch to Envy.

I wished I'd had the nerve to kiss him then. Wonder what it'd be like—

"Ed, Ed?" Winry said, "Are you listening to me?"

"Er, yeah, what?"

"No of course you weren't." She rolled her eyes. "Look, Russell doesn't take shit for anything. And he did get a bit of hazing, but you probably didn't notice because you're thickheaded like that. He'd just respond with 'yeah, and you're straight, or are you?' and then flirt or pummel the person."

"Uh, that sounds like something he would do," I said, trying to remember when this had occurred. When did Russell come out? He'd always just been not-straight and you didn't ask. We'd never talked about it. All I can recall is that he'd always mock me for just liking girls. "When did Russell—"

"I don't even think he came out to you. Though I think he might have explained his reasoning when you both were seven and you asked about the advantages of liking more than girls," Winry said. I did remember that one. Something about twice the chance of someone liking him back, which made a lot of sense at age seven. "I also think that Russell coined the term 'straight-ass hetero dickwad.' You have to remember him yelling that at anyone who called him a gay-ass fag."

Incidentally, I did remember that. Though I thought that it was just Russell being Russell and defending all of us? I don't think it even registered that those guys were addressing any of us in particular.

"Ling?" I asked.

"Since when has anyone been able to tease Ling?" Winry asked. "It just doesn't work."

"So then why would Envy—"

"Use your _brain_ Edward," she said, looking away. "I can't believe you don't—you're such a stupid guy. Envy's weird."

"Well, yeah, I _know _that."

"No, I mean, he's really weird. Most people thought he was a girl. Someone started up a pretty nasty rumor about how he masqueraded as a girl to seduce you and wasn't it a good thing you found out in time?"

"I'll fucking—"

"It's just a rumor Ed," Winry said, resting her hand on my arm. "It's not the worst either. Plenty people thought you were dating him—even if you weren't and when you yelled, well, everyone assumed that he'd misled you. Of course, they don't know that you actually _are_ dense enough to mistake someone for a girl for _five fucking months_."

"But I tried to apologize. And there were rumors about me too, remember?" Well, there might've been, I don't actually know because I was freaking out about Envy not being a girl and basically what felt like my whole world crashing down around me. I had fallen _hard_ for Envy and then to realize, especially like that, that he was a guy… that sucked.

After Envy ran off, this moron sophomore came over and asked how it felt to be, ah what did he say? Oh yes " rejected by my faggot boyfriend." That was the last straw, I was still trying to figure out the ramifications of Envy not being a girl and his mean right hook, and he _insulted_ Envy (the fact that Envy wasn't a girl still hadn't registered with my innate sense of chivalry). I remembered yelling something along the lines of "You take that back, Envy's not my faggot boyfriend!" Which people may have taken to mean that I was pissed that he'd called me gay or implied that as opposed to being pissed that he'd called Envy a faggot.

Yeah, Winry doesn't know about that lovely little screaming match. I just told it was those gosh-darned unbelievable rumors, you know? Because nothing is more awkward than explaining something like that to a violent girl who believes that chivalry is anti-women's-rights. Enough people believed those rumors though, which might be why Russell and Ling had an easier time. Or that people were so confused as to why I wasn't beating the shit out of them that they decided I was a violent lunatic and steered clear of us.

"Funny how your incessant apologies never got out. Wonder why? Hmm," Winry said, putting a finger to her lip. "I bet it had something to do with the fact that you made out with Rose and groped her in the most public spots possible."

"Huh," I said. "So now he has _reasons_ for really hating me. Perfect. You're such a help Win."

"Winry, Ed, we're done," Fletcher called from outside the door. Fuck, Sunday school.

"Why don't you tell him what you just told me," she said, getting up to open the door. "Like over lunch tomorrow or something. I'm sure that if you just smile like that he'll fall for you. After all, he was pretty smitten too, you know?"

"Right," I said. I could feel a headache coming on, in the form of a horde of small children. My afternoon was not going to be pleasant.

Dinner was … interesting. I almost came out so many times. Every time I opened my mouth the words "I'm bi" were on the tip of my tongue, but then I'd say something else. I would think 'I'm bi!' but "Al, pass the potatoes, please?" would come out of my mouth. It was like whenever I said it, my brain would just scream "NO!" and I wouldn't come out. It was the most disconcerting thing ever.

After dinner, I went for a nice, long walk with Sheldon. The email I'd gotten from Hughes confirmed my worse fears: I had, in fact, signed up for distance track on Friday. Even though we'd both already ran today, I needed to get out of the house and just think.

I turned on to the dirt trail and Sheldon whined. We were in the old part of the part that was once an apple orchard. Everything is over grown, but it's peaceful. There's also a large amount of squirrels. I knelt and let Sheldon off leash. He can have fun with the furry vermin and I can angst over Envy. Fun.

Winry basically told me to ask Envy out. As if that wasn't what got me into this whole damn mess in the first place. Well, actually it was that stupid party I went to right before high school started. I knew a couple people there, but not many. Winry was off with her friends and Russell was flirting with moving objects and I didn't even know where the hell Ling was.

I remembered feeling a bit overwhelmed. The house was huge. I mean, sure my house isn't exactly small, but it at least looks like a house. This was a mansion, on steroids or something. It was huge. I ended up wandering around looking for something to do. I didn't want to be known as the lame kid who went home early with his mom.

I'd walked into three rooms by the time I reached The Room all with people either making out or getting high or both. I opened the door slowly and there was this person sitting on the floor watching a movie. They looked up when I came in and I was lost. Envy had his hair in these messy pigtails and when he looked at me—well, I fell, _hard_.

I asked if I could sit down and he sat yes. He was wearing a Shins concert shirt and I said something about it. The movie had started by then and I asked what it was. Little Miss Sunshine. I hadn't seen it yet so Envy demanded that I stay and watch it. I didn't ended up watching the movie so much as staring at Envy out of the corner of my eye.

I started calling him Little Miss Sunshine. He _hated_ the 'little miss' part so I shortened it to Sunshine or rather, _my_ Sunshine. I realize now just _why_ he hated the 'little miss' part; he thought I was calling him a girl or something. I just thought he found it chauvinistic or condescending. (See, I'm used to girls like Winry who think that pulling out a chair is a form of sexual oppression.)

If I could just find a way to remind Envy of that maybe he'd listen to me or forgive me. I sighed and watched the dusk drift though the spidery network of bare limbs. Short of forcing Envy to watch Little Miss Sunshine I don't think there's anyway to remind him of that night. He won't even listen to me. I supposed I could ask Sloth, but that seemed… dangerous. And I _know_ Envy hates it when she meddles in his life.

But, I could ask him to lunch. That's what Winry said. And that's basically what Russell said. You've found "her" now go out and get "her." This is such a bad idea, but we could go somewhere off campus. I'd be alone with Envy. I could tell him I'm bi and just see what he says and then…

Sheldon startled me out of my thoughts. He was running towards me, squirrel in mouth. My mom is going to—how did he—no fucking way.

"I TAUGHT YOUR FUCKING SUNDAY SCHOOL CLASS AND THIS IS MY REWARD!!!" I yelled at the sky or God (who may or may not actually exist). All right, so maybe I didn't teach anything. Winry and I couldn't find the lesson plan so I just popped in the Disney version of Moses and let them watch it. It kept them rather quiet and hypnotized. I even found a little study guide for them to do so the parents wouldn't complain we were just doing this out of laziness.

Later, after Mom finished screaming at me for letting Sheldon catch a squirrel, I headed upstairs. Mom came with me to get her reading glasses. I had been debating coming out to her for hours in my head; that, the horde of small children, and her recent screaming had given me a bitch of a migraine.

"Mom, what's your opinion on gay people?" I asked as we reached the second landing. She paused and looked at me.

"Honey, you know we like Fletcher," Mom said. She sounded puzzled, like it should be obvious or something. But this is different. This isn't Fletcher, this is me.

"Yeah, but what if it were your sons, Al and I, then what?" I asked. From the look on her face, I wasn't being as subtle as I thought I was. I placed one hand on the railing, taking a step up. "You know, just saying."

"Are you trying to tell me something?" Mom asked. She peered at me. "Edward?"

"NO!" I shouted. Take it back I didn't want to come out, not now, not ever. I definitely didn't want to tell my mom. God, what if she thought I was just transitioning into being gay instead actually _being_ bisexual. I wasn't gay. I liked girls and guys!

"Nothing about Al you want to—?"

"Why do you think it's him?" I demanded. Why does she suddenly think it's about him? Like I can't be gay or bi? Or like I would spill my own brother's secrets?

"Oh, well, is it you?" Mom asked, feigning confusion, because she knows, she has to know. Of course, it was about me! I'm bi. The words don't come out. Blood rushed to my face. I sputtered.

"No! No, it's neither of us, I was just… um wondering. A friend of mine is thinking about coming out," I lied, trying to think of something less transparent. I was really blowing this. Why couldn't I just tell her? But the words wouldn't come out. I wanted to, but oh no I didn't.

"Ling?" Mom suggested, helpfully.

"NO! He's not gay—he's just," I struggled for the word. "Open."

"Russell? They say it runs in the family."

"NO! He's not gay! Those are just rumors!" I yelp. What does she mean, run in the family? That's not true, is it?

"Oh, well, who's the friend?" Ah. That would be why. She's just going through a list of my friends. I look her in the eye. She has to know by now it's me. I just can't say it.

"I'm b—You don't know him, just never mind," I said and ran up the stairs.

"Edward honey, you know, even if you were gay it wouldn't be a problem. Just DON'T GET ANYMORE PEIRCINGS!"

"I'm not gay, I'M BI!" I shouted down to her before realizing just what I've said. Oh my God. I did it. I came out to my mom. And Dad probably heard too. And so did Al and God I hope the windows aren't open because then the neighbors will all know.

"Oh," Mom said. I waited for her to say something more. "That's great too honey."

I smiled.

"Thanks Mom."

At least one thing had gone right today.


	13. Chapter 13

AN by Potions For Foxes:  
ARGles. Yeah, *that* scene. Over an entire hour of our lives. Possibly more Then Indy tried to convince that No, Future Boyfriends Will Not Appreciate Your Attitude Of "I'm Bored, Wanna Have Sex?". She failed... as I don't intend on dating gay or asexual guys. For rather obvious reasons. Regardless, we spent the next half hour or so what-if-ing about Ed and Envy's potential relationship. Still, it's not abuse, it's Tough Love. Though in my case it's a combination of that, curiosity, impatience, and obsession...

This chapter is awesome, I think I've said that before. Well, it's still true. Envy gets some much needed "ACTION!" and yes, it is exactly what you're thinking. Other than that, you'll just have to read and find out. I will say that Ingrid Bergman was right. "A kiss is a lovely trick designed by nature to stop speech when words become superfluous." Make of that what you will. -cackles madly-

The chapter really is hilarious. And I'm not forcing her to write more. I'm just conducting an experiment on how time of update affects over all review count and need to gather data so I can better determine the optimum time for updates, space between updates (and it's NOT one update per day either, I'm on to you), and day of the week. If I tell you more, you will compromise the validity of the survey. As I have not taken Statistics ever, the validity is already circumspect enough as it is.

But yes, awesome chapter. It's insanely funny. Update reviews are unnecessary, but you already know that and you've been very good about it. Thank you. We (I) appreciate that very much. Updates shall become much more regular. I doubt they will ever be regular as I am very forgetful will not ever post a chapter at 6pm Pacific Time again.

I have the test they did in English. I got 100% on it (and saved it for fanfiction…) and typed it up for Indy. So, if anyone wants to take the quiz, email me, Potions For Foxes (my email is on my page) and we can work something out. I'd be flattered. Plus, taking the test would be like _being there_. (Because you're all creepy stalkers at heart, right? Right? I'm not alone, guys? Guys? GUYS?!?)

But I digress, on with the chapter. It is epic. There is ACTION (yes, that kind of ACTION. I finally wore Indy down and she wrote _exactly_ what you're thinking she wrote. After all, pretty kinky stuff can happen in the back of a classroom, especially when the teacher is completely oblivious … Well, I'll just say, it's Envy's _first_ time doing it, with a guy)

Chapter by: indigo's ocean

Stupid Cupid

_(quit hitting on me)_

Chapter Thirteen

I woke up with a headache, and Sloth was shoving a trenchcoat in my face. "Wear it," she said, and I wondered whether I should start locking my door, especially if she kept barging in like this. "This goes over your uniform. And these, two." She tossed a pair of gloves onto my head. "We'll match."

"Motherfucking hell, Sloth, what time is it?" I groaned into my pillow. It was still dark and cold, too.

"Seven-fifteen," she replied cheerfully just as my eyes were fluttering closed again. I sat bolt upright.

"What the _fuck_?" I practically yelled, jumping out of bed and wincing as the warmth of the covers left me. "We're going to be fucking late..." Without looking, I grabbed the garments and my uniform and dashed to the shower.

"You're welcome for waking you up!" Sloth called from behind me. I cursed.

And with that inauspicious beginning - jumping into the Jaguar ten minutes before school started and trying to dry my hair all the way with the air from the heater as Sloth chatted away about her cute outfit - Monday, February sixteenth, was looking up to be the third worst day of my life. Take a guess what the first and second worst days are. I'll give you a hint - number one has to do with 'Edward Elric' and number two has to do with 'Match-Up Grams'. Actually, they both have to do with Edward Elric.

I leaned back in the seat and massaged the bridge of my nose. Sloth was pulling into the school parking lot. _Fuck_.

Since the day had started out so badly, I wouldn't have been surprised to find that I had forgotten my Precalculus homework (which I spent two hours working on, Sunday) or something equally stupid. Surprisingly, I made it to my locker and to the Psychology classroom within five seconds of the late bell - which meant I was home free, and able to space out to an hour of Ms. Scheska's fumbling attempts to teach.

Or so I thought.

In Psychology I sit in the row of desks at the back, a few seats away from Russell Tringham, one of Ed's best friends. Which wouldn't be so bad, since, you know, Ed's friends and I aren't really on 'first name terms'... except for that one time, at that one party. I think I mentioned it before, but during the summer after freshman year I went to a party with my girlfriend at the time, Martel. We got separated and I was pretty drunk, so all I can _really_ remember is waking up in someone's backseat with Russell snoring on top of me.

Luckily both of us were still wearing the majority of our clothing, and I'd _know_ if I had lost my virginity then, but... I wasn't sure how much he remembered. How much he wanted to remember. Maybe he hated me, or whenever he looked at me he was laughing silently because of that party. Or something.

So I tried not to think about him too much.

It usually worked out okay, both of us ignoring each other and all, but today he kept shooting blue-eyed glances in my direction. It was making me uncomfortable, and it was even more disconcerting when, about fifteen minutes into the period, he jabbed the kid between us with his pencil and said, "Yo, move."

The girl shot him an annoyed glance but obediently traded places with him. Kimbley would have made her move without even having to ask, I thought, resting my chin on my hand and pretending I didn't notice him.

He was watching me, though, staring, and eventually my shoulders and the back of my neck started to prickle, and I turned. "What are you _doing_?" I hissed.

Russell grinned. "I want to talk to you," he replied, leaning in a little closer to make sure his whisper was heard. "Got a problem with that?"

"Um," I said, wondering what he could possibly want to talk to me about. Nothing good, probably. But if I tried to ignore him he'd just keep _staring_, and I hated that. "We're in the middle of class. Can't you save it for later?" As excuses went, that one was pretty prudish and inaccurate. When Scheska was teaching, nothing could distract her. Not even a kid setting himself on fire - that had almost happened once, and she hadn't stopped mumbling from the lecture notes until the smoke alarm went off. _That_ was an interesting fire drill.

"It's important," he told me, leaning even closer. I leaned away a little, nervous. "_Really_ important."

It couldn't be about that party. It had been at least two years since then. But what else would he have to talk to me about? "What?" I asked, wishing he would just leave me alone. My head was still hurting, too.

"Weeeell," Russell said, drawing out the word annoyingly. "What are your feelings about bisexuals? Bisexual _men_, in particular."

Because _that_ was the most important question I would ever be asked in my life. And what did that have to do with anything? Why did he care? Unless he was... I scooted my desk a little further away and voiced the first thing that came to mind. "Uh... What the hell?"

"Oh, I'm not bi myself," Russell said in what I assumed was intended to be a reassuring tone of voice. He brushed a hand down his chest, and then placed it on my forearm. I looked down at it, confused - what was he trying to pull, anyway? - and then back at him. I couldn't shove him away in the middle of class, at least not until I had figured out what he was trying to get at. "I find that term too limiting."

"Really?" I asked, rather at a loss. "What more can you be?"

"Well," he replied, not moving his hand. He was rubbing his thumb on the fabric of my dark gray trench coat. I was glad my arm was covered, and I was wearing gloves. I would have been even happier if he had just _moved_. "Bisexual doesn't address transgender people or the gender queer. It only applies to men and women, not the in-betweens. I prefer to call myself _pansexual_. It encompasses more sex with humans."

He was leering at me, and his hand had worked its way up my arm to the bend at my elbow. I picked up his wrist with two fingers and removed his hand from my person. "And animals?" I snapped at him - though I'll admit I was a little curious. "Dogs? Pigs? ...Snakes?"

"It's illegal, since they can't give consent," Russell replied, somewhat smugly, as if he had checked. "And I am not an animal rapist." But if they consented? I wondered if that was the only thing stopping him - he and Sloth would make a good match, at least in the 'creepy nympho' category. He licked his lips and leaned forward again. "But seriously, what do you think about bi guys?"

"They like both men and women," I told him, annoyed. What was I supposed to be saying? That I loved guys who could date a girl one day and a guy the next? That I didn't care? That I didn't understand how people could like girls (or boys) because they were so icky and being bisexual was stupid?

Russell sighed. "I have this bisexual friend, okay, and he's a guy. And he's got this _huge_ crush on you, but he's afraid you won't like him if you find out he's bi. So..." He waited expectantly for my response.

I didn't see how that would matter. A crush was a crush and... I guess it irked me a little that Russell automatically assumed I was gay, but whatever. "How would that make a difference?" I asked. Then I looked at him suspiciously. "Who's the guy?" Besides Edward fucking Elric, Russell hung out with... Ling.

Oh God, Ling. Was it Ling? But I doubted he would be nervous like that. If he wanted, he'd ask me out himself. Who else could it be, though?

"I can't tell you that," Russell said, shaking his head, and I wasn't surprised. "But I think he's crazy enough to ask you out soon, regardless. Knowing your opinion would just make things easier on him. Or harder, I guess, if you don't want to be with a bi guy."

I sighed. "How would that make a difference, if he was bi?" I paused. "What makes him think I'd even say yes?" Who _was _it? Who the hell would want to ask _me_ out?

"He's crazy like that," Russell replied dismissively. "He's pretty much in love with you."

"_Who_?" I asked. Wasn't it normal to assume that I would have noticed someone who was practically 'in love with me'? But no one was acting odd around me (except Russell, right now), and... I had absolutely no idea who he was talking about. It was pretty fucking disconcerting.

"I can't tell you," he said primly. "You'd yell and then Scheska would notice, and people would stare."

I rubbed at the bridge of my nose. This conversation was making my head hurt even worse. "Why would I yell?"

"I can't _tell_ you," Russell repeated. "You won't believe me. Anyway. What's your perfect date?"

Oh bloody fuck. I was beginning to understand why Sloth flat-out rejected all guys who talked to her through wingmen. It was fucking _annoying_. "Ice cream," I snapped automatically, before remembering Manny's. And Ed. "Never mind. I... I dunno."

"Ah, didn't you and Ed go out for ice cream a lot back in freshman year?"

"Fuck _off_," I said, disguising my flinch by turning away from him. Now that Russell had brought up _this_ subject, it was either leave the conversation or punch him in the face. And I didn't want to go batfuck crazy in the _Psychology_ classroom, of all places. That's what Rix calls irony.

Russell, of course ignored both me and his common sense. "You have no idea what it was like for us, though, seriously. Winry and Ling and I had to listen to him yammer on and on about how awesome you were for _hours_. Before, um, that, I mean. And afterward, he basically moaned and hit his head a lot. It was awful."

"Shut up!" I told him, keeping my face averted. I knew I was blushing, and I _hated_ it. I hated that it could still make me - no. It _didn't matter_. Fuck. "So what?"

"Just, he was super upset when you completely ignored him," Russell said blithely. He ran his fingers through his hair. "He wanted to apologize really badly..."

"Oh," I said. I couldn't meet Russell's eyes. "He had a _great_ way of showing it."

Russell tapped his fingers against the surface of the desk. "With the Rose thing, you mean? I think that was his pathetic way of coping. But you did block him on like everything."

"What else was I supposed to do?" I asked him uncomfortably. "He wouldn't fucking leave me alone." I had gotten tired of the incessant calls and IMs and didn't understand why he couldn't just leave me alone. At the time I thought he wanted to gloat - but even if he had wanted to apologize, couldn't he have waited? All I wanted to do for the whole month after that... that _thing_ was to crawl in a corner and die from embarrassment. Hatred. Who I hated back then... I still don't know if it was Ed, or if it was myself.

"You wouldn't listen to him," Russell said, and shrugged like it was normal to practically stalk someone after they had made it abundantly clear that they _didn't_ want to talk. "What was he supposed to do, camp in front of your house? Actually, he'd have totally done that if he knew where you lived. Guess you dodged a bullet there, man. But no, ditching you was one of the stupidest things he's ever done. Right up there with Lyra."

I remembered Lyra. Straight-edged, Republican, homophobic chick who made pointed comments about me whenever I was within hearing range and shoved me out of the way whenever I got too close. Sloth had liked her haircut, but not much else. I hadn't liked her at all. "Ditching me couldn't _possibly_ have been as stupid as dating Lyra," I commented, resting my chin on my hand again.

"Well, I dunno," Russell said with a grin. "You're an _excellent_ kisser, for one, and he was - probably still is - completely crazy for you."

I blushed and looked at him with wide eyes. "So you do -" _remember the party_, I was going to say, but cut myself off. If I acted like it wasn't a big deal, then Russell wouldn't care either and then he'd leave me alone faster and we could go on our merry little ways. Class was almost over anyway. I glanced at the clock - five more minutes - before saying, with forced nonchalance (but total - well, almost total honesty), "I wouldn't mind if Ed hated me now."

"And what if Edward doesn't hate you?" Russell asked, cocking his head to the side and giving me an interested look. Thankfully he didn't get any closer. "What then?"

"I told him to leave me the fuck alone already," I replied, remembering the look on Ed's face as I stormed out of Manny's. It wasn't - it didn't make me feel good, that I said those things, even though it probably should have. I blamed it on the ice cream. I threw it away outside - knew I should've eaten it. "Hopefully he got the message finally, after two years..."

"_Why_, though?" Russell pressed, staring at me intently. "I mean, he's honestly sorry for what he's done. He regrets it. He's crazy about you. Why not go for it?"

I stared at him. "He - _mmph_!" My rising screech was cut off by Russell lunging forward and grabbing my chin to pull me into a kiss. I tried to pull away but he pressed his other hand to the back of my neck, mashing our lips together, and...

And he was a really good kisser. And I couldn't breathe.

Both of us were startled when the bell rang. Russell loosened his hand and I fell backwards out of my chair, landing in an untidy sprawl on the floor, gasping for breath. "You... you..." My face was bright red. My lips were still tingling.

"Oh man," Russell said, grinning at me. He was a little flushed too, but not nearly as breathless or flustered. I hated him for that. "I've been wanting to do that since freshman year." And then, leaving me sitting on the floor with my face on fire, he left.

---

Roy was sitting in his usual desk in History, and at least had the grace to look uncertain as I walked in a few seconds before the bell. He looked relieved when I sat next to him, too - today he was being unusually transparent. "You look a little hassled," he said, peering at me with concern. "You okay?"

_No, Roy, I just got kissed - on the mouth! - by one of Ed's best friends, who also interrogated me about my feelings toward bisexual men and all of this happened during the middle of my Psychology class _while _Scheska was teaching_. "Yeah," I replied, shortly.

Apparently that answer wasn't good enough. "Are you sure?" Roy asked, then shook his head. "Look, En, I'm really sorry about Saturday and -"

"Save it," I said. _Because I met Ed at Manny's and he told me what you were doing, and I don't blame you even if your taste in friends is absolute crap_. "It's not a big deal, really, and I overreacted."

"If you're sure," Roy said with a sigh, but at least he looked happier.

"I am." But I wasn't sure whether I wanted to totally forgive him for everything, though - I had apologized and he had apologized, but I couldn't help but think that Sloth had a point. (As well as Ed, God forbid.) Roy _did_ pull stuff on me that no normal best friend should have been able to get away with, and did so on a regular basis. He did apologize afterward, but was that any different than - I cut off that thought. Didn't need it, especially not now.

"Hey..." Roy's face was inches away from mine. Oh, shit. "You sure you're okay? You look all flushed..."

_No shit, Sherlock, I just had my first kiss (with a guy) and I don't even like him, but he was one hell of a kisser and it was in the middle of my Psychology class! and this might be lifelong trauma so _excuse_ me for not being alabaster pale and beautiful at the moment_. "It's my head. I've had a headache since I woke up."

He winced sympathetically. "Ah, that sucks, I'm sorry."

"Know what else sucks?" I asked, and gave him a crooked grin. "Next period I get to face Edward fucking Elric." _Whose best friend just kissed me on the mouth and left me sitting on the floor of my Psychology classroom and I have no idea what he was trying to do so whatever plan he had didn't work but he still _kissed_ me._

"That does suck."

_You have no idea, Roy. No idea._

And then Tucker began his lecture, so I didn't have to make up any excuses. Even though the women's suffrage movement in the 1920s was boring as hell, Roy didn't have a chance to interrogate me any more, and I could pretend that Psychology had never happened.

Using the pretense that I had forgotten something in my locker, I managed to ditch Roy after History so I could get to AP English early. Rix didn't usually even look up from grading papers until the second the bell rang, so I didn't have to worry about his usual snark until then. And if I arrived as early as possible, I wouldn't have to run the metaphorical gauntlet, walking past _both_ Ed and Russell. Ed would - hell, I didn't know what Ed would do, glare at me? Give me that look that said 'Why don't you adore me?' even after I had made my feelings perfectly clear? And Russell...

I shuddered slightly and slid into my desk. I didn't want to know what Russell would do. Luckily, I was the first person in the classroom besides Rose, who gave me a small smile as I slid into my seat. I bobbed my head in a nod of acknowledgement. Didn't really want to smile.

Roy walked in about a minute later and gave me a strange look. I managed to force a smile for him. "Turned out I had the paper all along," I said, shrugging. He shrugged too and moved to his seat next to me. I sighed and tapped my fingers on the desk. This was going to be a long period and my head _still_ hurt - though slightly less than it had this morning. Luckily Rix tends to keep his room cold, so I was able to keep my gloves on. I liked them. Made me feel like a spy, or -

Oh shit. There was Edward suck-my-dick Elric, opening the door. I looked back down at my desk quickly, pretending I was fixated on some interesting smudge or something, and when I looked up again, Ed had taken his seat and Russell caught my eye with a wink.

_Double_ shit. My eyes widened and I looked down again hastily, hoping my hair fell in my face enough to disguise my blush. Oh, triple shit. Shit on a fucking sandwich. Shit what had I done to deserve this?

"Envy," Roy said, looking at me with an uncharacteristically serious expression on his face. _Quadruple_ shit.

"Yeah?" I asked, flicking a sidelong glance at Russell. His attention had been claimed by Ed. Good.

"Look, are you sure nothing happened today? Yesterday? You're really not looking good."

He was concerned. I almost melted and leaned my head against his shoulder, because I had been wanting to lean on someone for _ages_ - but I couldn't. Not here, not with Rix and Sloth and Ed and Russell and Ling and God why had I even taken this fucking class in the first place? "Yeah, I'm... I'm really fine," I told him instead, sighing. "Headache, I told you, and I'm just really stressed." One hundred percent truth, even though it felt more like a lie than anything.

"Ah, yeah, that makes -"

"YOU DID WHAT?!" Ed cried from across the room and I flinched.

"So, how about this weather, huh, Roy?" I babbled, not daring to look across the room. "It's been really cloudy lately, isn't that weird? I mean, it's not strange for February I guess but if it were June we'd have to do some serious thinking about global warming and buy new cars and stop drilling for oil... Ahahaha..."

"Envy!" Roy said sharply. "What happened between you and Ed?"

"It wasn't -" I began, intending to mumble some excuse and _maybe_ (not) tell him about Russell. But at that moment, Rix stood from his desk, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

"Yo," he said, with that annoying, snarky, self-satisfied voice. "Since we accomplished nothing on Friday, I almost decided to send off Angeloff at the beginning of the period so he wouldn't cause another scene. But I don't think that's going to be necessary today."

I clenched my fists and let my hair fall down in front of my face again, praying he couldn't see my blush. What a fucking _ass_. He hated me and I hated him just as much, if not more - the only difference was that he was in the position of authority, and was therefore entitled to make terrible jokes out of students' names. I wondered if he had spent the entire weekend thinking up that single joke. Probably.

"Rix's a prick," Roy muttered under his breath. I nodded my fervent agreement.

"Today I've planned your favorite thing - a pop quiz!" He slapped some papers down on my desk and smirked at me. I glared. "This focuses on literary terms and grammar, so if you've paid any attention to your English teachers in the last eleven or so years, you should have no problem. Obviously, Mr. Mustang is in a bit of a bind."

Roy rolled his eyes at me as Rix hit him over the head with the papers to pass back. I shrugged. It was Rix. It was AP English. What were you gonna do? (Still hated him though.)

"We're taking a test, Elric," Rix said, turning to the opposite side of the room and catching Ed chatting up my sister. I winced and prayed I wasn't the topic of the conversation - though, knowing Sloth... Damn. "And unlike Monday's little survey _thing_, this gets turned into me and I grade it. So, please don't copy off an Angeloff this time. We all know what happened last time."

I was surprised to see my wince - a half-and-half mix of anger and embarrassment - mirrored on Ed's face, though in retrospect I shouldn't have been surprised. His reputation had probably taken just as much of a beating as mine - well, maybe not so much, since he was chronically straight and I, well, wasn't. At least now he knew what it was like to be a target of Rix's acerbic wit.

"Pass 'em back, Yao." Ling was wearing his shiny metal lip ring today. It was bright silver and he bit it a little as he picked up the tests to pass them back. But I couldn't stare at him for long. Russell was sitting right behind him and...

I shuddered and looked back down at my test. It was simple matching with various AP terms - nothing I had done before, and it shouldn't turn out to be that hard. Though with Rix writing the test, who knew? He probably snuck me a trick copy that was harder than everyone else's, while he was at it. Wouldn't surprise me.

Turned out the test was usual Rix fare, mind-numbingly difficult questions combined with several no-brainers. I skimmed it dully, only really focusing on the questions that caught my eye. I knew I would get more than a few wrong, but that was all part of life and anyway, today I didn't really give a shit about schoolwork. I would pencil in the bubbles on my answer sheet but, well, Daddy-Pride didn't expect particularly good grades from me anyway.

Number sixteen amused me - _She makes the best apple pie in the universe!_ Who did? Rix's wife? Then again, I didn't think Rix was married. Actually, with a personality like that, he _definitely_ wasn't. I wondered what kind of person would make really good apple pie. No one in my family, that was for sure - Russian Wife doesn't understand that Americans have their own type of food, and culinary skills don't run in Daddy-Pride's side of the family.

So someone out of the family then. I thought of all the wholesome women with whom I was acquainted - the list was unsurprisingly rather short. Roy's mom could make a good apple pie, I'd bet anything... I tapped the tip of my pencil against my lips. Who else did I know that could make something like that? An All-American type mom lady, or just a really nice woman...

Nope, nothing. Maybe that was why I was gay.

Damn. I had just gotten totally distracted by apple pie when the answer was eight D, _hyperbole_. Ah, and I had bitten the end of my eraser, too - bad habit. I hated it when I did that. But God this test was boring...

I wondered if Ling was playing with his lip ring. But I couldn't look up, because Russell might see or Ed might be staring and I was _through_ with him, no matter what Russell had said, no matter if he hadn't been able to stop talking about me in freshman year or, or...

He couldn't be crazy about me. Russell was a stupid horny liar and Ed was a dumb jerk and was that a piercing I heard, clicking against someone's teeth?

Almost instinctively, I glanced at Ling, but for once his mouth was set in a firm line, and his lip ring was untouched. Weird. I could have sworn... but whatever. I looked back down at my test. I was far from being done and the period was going to be ending in at least fifteen minutes. I had to work.

Somehow I managed to finish the test, seconds ahead of the bell. My head felt like it was about to split open, but that was nothing new. I wished I had taken the time to grab an Aspirin - or maybe the whole bottle - before rushing out of the house. But it was too late now, and I didn't want to go to the nurse's office, which was small and stuffy and too bright.

And Russian was next too, ugh. Trying to speak another language always gave me headaches and, oh Lord, Russell was in my Russian class as well. Didn't that just take the fucking cake? Luckily, he sat across the room from me, and Mrs. Kursinska wasn't like Scheska. She'd _notice_ if two guys started kissing in the back of the room.

Still, when I dragged myself into the classroom, Russell winked again and mouthed something at me. I don't know what he said - couldn't read lips. It could have been anything from _Kiss me again, I'm sexy and horny _to _She makes the best apple pie in the universe_, and so he was duly ignored.

Unfortunately, I couldn't ignore his previous words as easily. _He's crazy about you. Why not go for it?_

I had been too distracted by the kiss, before, but Russell had definitely said something along those lines, about Ed. But that was impossible. Ed had ditched me (Russell's words, not mine; they sounded degrading but they were the best I could find, what with my head pounding like that) all the way back in freshman year. For him to realize something like that _now_, two years later, _after_ I basically told him he was free to drown himself in the toilet...

Yeah, that was definitely impossible. Not even Ed would be that stupid, and what could he possibly like about me anyway? Now that he knew I didn't, you know, have boobs and a vagina, just a gorgeous half-sister.

I stayed on that rather miserable train of thought until the bell rang, and Mrs. Kursinska gave me the sixtieth concerned look in about as many minutes. Since Sloth sucked up to her and she was on first name terms with Russian Wife, she seemed to think that we were friends and always got worried when I was distracted in class. My lack of effort would probably get reported to Russian Wife sometime this afternoon, but it didn't really matter. She didn't care.

The halls were packed - it was lunch time and also an off-campus day for the juniors and seniors, so everyone was rushing to their lockers and to their cars for about an hour of freedom. Last night Sloth had promised to take me to a Chinese restaurant she had discovered, and I was determined to grab her before anything intervened. _Anything_ being namely Edward what-the-fuck Elric or Russell horndog Tringham. I had made it all the way downstairs without incident and was shoving my way to the end of the hall when -

"Envy! _Envy_!"

It was Ed's voice, I recognized that much, and he sounded rather desperate. Well, fuck that. It's not like he'd say anything important anyway and I was tired of hearing how much he fucking regretted freshman year or the Match-Up fucking Grams or how I should just get over my fucking self because of course I wasn't fucked over like a fucking octopus and I don't know _where_ that thought came from but my head was fucking hurting and I just couldn't take it -

"Hey! _Sunshine_!"

I had reached the end of the hallway, where it made a sort of T-shaped intersection, when Ed used the nickname. I whirled around so my back was facing the wall and stared at him with wide eyes, ignoring the crush of people on all sides. "What the fuck did you -" I began, then stopped. The nickname _didn't matter_. Even if I was... even if I was blushing and - "What the fuck do you want?" I asked breathlessly.

Ed stopped, and a girl nearly ran into him. She shot him a nasty look and this would have been comical if it wasn't me he was staring at with that desperate, panicked, hopeful, _stupid_ look in his eyes. "Ah, En, do you... do you wanna go out to lunch with me?" he babbled. "We can do pizza or something, just whatever you want, please?"

He was blushing. Dear God, he was blushing and I was cornered and what the hell did I ever do to deserve this? I couldn't run. I couldn't hit him, either, because... because he was so fucking pathetic. But I couldn't let myself - I couldn't - "You've gotta be fucking kidding me," I said, forcing my tone to be flat and trying my best to hide the rising panic in my voice.

"But I'm not." Ed stepped closer and I moved back. I was pressed up against the wall, trying not to hyperventilate. I _did not want_ this. What was his problem? Why couldn't he - I didn't - Why were there so many people?

He reached for me, touched my wrist, and I flinched and slapped his hand away before I could think. "Stop it," I said. Couldn't breathe. "D-don't touch me." And I hated that stupid quaver in my voice and I hated how I couldn't let him near me and I hated everything and my head was going to burst.

I caught the flash of utter hopelessness in his eyes before I dashed through the crowd and away. That... Hell, that was a major fuck up, wasn't it? But you have to understand, I -

Never mind. We'll save _that_ explanation for later.

….

"A kiss is a lovely trick designed by nature to stop speech when words become dangerous because they will lead to unseemly shouting and limb flailing and if I kiss him maybe he'll think about that and not what I just told him." Russell Tringham.

He lives by this… He almost may be in possession of the shirt "Kiss me again, I'm sexy and horny" and if he isn't, well, he'd like one.


	14. Chapter 14

AN by indigo's ocean:

Heeey guys. I have a confession to make about this chapter. See, the, um, the _scene _featuring Envy - that was my idea. And I roleplayed it as Envy with PFF. Which led to an interesting discussion on kinkiness and the mutual agreement that I am more kinky. (Good or bad, take it as you will...)  
Speaking of kinkiness, and roleplaying, I believe a few days after we did this scene we spent at least six hours doing a Ling/Russell RP which might-or-might-not be published as an independent oneshot. If it is, we'll let you know (and it will be the first Ling/Russell fic in existence, which isn't a surprise). But in case we don't, here are some fun facts! Firstly, _lube_. Russell has a ton; it's like a collection in the third drawer of his night table. He has cherry flavored, limeade flavored, blue tingly stuff with sparkles, aaand a Mysterious Orange Bottle which, as it is unlabeled, might or might not be acrylic paint. It's probably best to keep on the safe side and not try that one out.  
And secondly, Ling likes making cartoon porn parodies of Russell's gay Kama Sutra. Yes. This is what he does in his spare time. And all the poses have such fetching names, like "Euclidian Geometry at Its Finest" (Russ would try that but the arms bend in five places making it physically impossible), "The Three Wise Men Finding Jesus", "Hungry Cobras and a Snake Charmer", and "The Flower of Fucking DOOM". Guess which character I was? ...Russell. Because PFF wanted to see me try and characterize a horn-dog like him. Ahaha.  
If you're interested in seeing it published, drop us a line!

Chapter by Potions For Foxes:

**Stupid Cupid**

_(quit hitting on me)_

Chapter Fourteen

The morning of the 16th dawned bright and clear. The sky was calm and I'm sure those goddamned birds were chirruping. Everything was just fucking peaceful in the neighborhood. Just fucking peachy.

Inside my house, pandemonium reigned supreme. Al's kitten, which he's christened Nova, was behind most of it. First off, Uno and Sheldon discovered Nova approximately two minutes after Mom took Trixie for a walk. The only reason I know this was because Mom always leaves for her morning walk at five thirty in the fucking morning. And I knew it was two minutes after that because I when I woke up after hearing an assortment of bangs and screeches, the clock said 5:32 AM. I was not downstairs at the time, but I assumed that this is how the events of February the sixteenth, year two thousand and nine played out:

0532 hours—Uno, the complete moron that he is, discovered Nova and initiated the chase. Sheldon probably just thought he was getting his run in early or something. Nova shrieked and fled the scene. The Lab and Border collie initiated Mission: Chase The Kitten And Wake Up The Entire Fucking Household.

0537 hours—Uno and Sheldon complete Operation Corner And Bark, in which they cornered the blasted kitten behind the armoire in the dining room that Sheba sleeps on top of when she decides my room just doesn't cut and barked at it. Sheldon got excited and howled.

0538 hours—This is where events got hazy. I assumed that this is when Sheba either woke up or Al's kitten decided to launch itself upward because Uno was moving the armoire. The next thing I heard was this god-awful screechy yowl. I sat bolt up right.

0538 hours and twenty seconds—Edward Elric decided to intervene on behalf of Sheba. I jumped out of bed, through open the door, and was almost mowed down by Sheba, who came streaking up the stairs like the devil was after her.

Uno, who has always hated Sheba, came barreling up the stairs seconds later. I slammed my door in his face and glared at him. It was before six in the morning and I was awake. It was then that Uno realized that this was a major mistake.

0540 hours—Situation Normal: All Fucked Up.

Then morning went on rather nicely after I threw Uno outside, locked Sheldon in the garage, and let Sheba out of my room. Unfortunately, that left coaxing Nova out from behind the refrigerator. He was huddled up on top of it, wedged between the fridge and the cabinet. Every so often he hissed and spat. But I decided to leave that for Al, so that he could feel like he contributed. Sheba had also sprayed, so that meant practically dousing the armoire, Sheba's path to the upstairs, and my room in Febreze.

I was just throwing out the three Febreze bottles I'd emptied when Mom got home. I came out to her (and everyone else in the vicinity) last night. We hadn't spoken about it. I turned bright red. This was going to be awkward.

"Ed! I can't believe you smoked pot this early in the morning! Is this why you've been so—"

"MOM!" I yelled, blushing really red now. I would never smoke pot in the house when any of my family was in it. Mom would react similarly and I'd be too stoned to deal with it. Al would use the fact that I was stoned to make me spill my secrets. And Dad; Dad would probably ask me to pass the joint, hippy that he is. And I think I would rather die than smoke pot with either of my parents.

And just because I've come home blazed out of my mind on several occasions does not mean I would light up at five in the fucking morning like some sort of morning person _addict_.

"What else would you be doing with Febreze?" she shrieked at me. Trixie whined. Sheba, who was sitting on the table, looked up from washing her paw to hiss.

"Ed!" Dad said, fumbling down the stairs, "Have you covered up all that cat-spray yet? Your mother's going to be—Ah, Trisha!"

"What exactly happened?" Mom asked furiously, looking from me to Dad. There is nothing she hates more than a cover up, which is exactly what Dad and I have been trying to do. Though in our defense, we didn't want to live in a place that smelled of cat spray.

"What've you been doing to my kitten!?" Al cried finally appearing downstairs. How he slept through that I do not know. I glared at him. This was all his fault. His and his stupid kitten's fault. "Nova's up on the fridge and he looks scared."

Breakfast was an unusually tense affair. My dad and I are not and will never be morning people. Al didn't like Mom yelling at him for not making sure Nova was in his room. Sure he _claimed_ the kitty was in there when he went to bed, but he obviously wasn't in Al's room in the morning. Then there was the fact that I'd come out last night and no one had said anything about it, at all.

Not that I wanted to talk about it or for Mom, Dad, or Al to question me about it. But still, acknowledgement? That'd be nice. Especially if they were trying to ignore it instead just accepting it. Perhaps Mom thought that she had covered the acceptance part last night. Still, neither Dad nor Al even mentioned it and I had been positive that Al at least would say something. But no.

The ride to school wasn't much better. Al chattered on about his musical for the longest time while I started out the window. I needed to talk to Ling or someone, maybe Russell would be less confusing face to face. All I knew was that I couldn't face Envy with only Winry's advice. I needed some sort of plan. I needed to talk to someone and just figure things out. I didn't even know what I needed to figure out, that's how confused I was.

A song came on the radio and Al turned it up. The beat was catchy and I caught my foot tapping along with the beat. There were violins and it was all very dramatic. I sighed a braced myself for more of Al's weirdo music. The wailing dirge would start any minute now.

"I go ooh, ooh, you go ah, ah." I raised my eyebrows. They were actually good, which is unusual because the type of music that Al likes normally sucks.

"I wanna, wanna, wanna get, get, get what I want. Don't stop." It was a pulsating disco beat, but not at all like the eighties bubble-gum crap they like to play on the radio. It was darker and more, I don't know, desperate or something. It fit with the grey February day. I mean, those clouds could only be described as broody.

"Don't even talk about the consequence 'cause right now you're the only thing that's making any sense." Great, it was like karma, fate, or God was telling me to ask Envy out. Fuck, that meant God agreed with Winry. Shit, that would make her ineffably correct. Damn, that would suck.

And then the chorus hit:

"I feel so untouched. And I want you so much. That I just can't resist you. It's not enough to say that I miss you. I feel so untouched right now. Need you so much somehow. I can't forget you. Been going crazy from the moment I met you." I sighed. Did I really need this? Honestly? Come on, this song was just too much. I didn't need this right now; it was so my life that it wasn't even funny. Maybe I could sing the song in a—no, that was an all around lousy idea. First off, I don't sing in front of people. Sure, Winry has told me that I have a good voice, but that does not mean I want to sing some chick song in front of the entire school only to be rejected (_again_) by Envy. I have more pride than that.

"Don't even think about what's right or wrong, wrong or right. 'Cause in the end it's only you and me and no one else is gonna be around."

Maybe I should just ask him out. But no that was stupid. It was so stupid. It was what got me in trouble in the first place.

"And you and I are meant to be so even if the world falls down today."

But why not? I mean, what's the worst thing he could say? No. That's—okay, maybe not. He's—it's not like asking a girl out. All I had to worry about with Rose or Lyra was - no, because they were just girls and they didn't hate me. The latter bit was probably more important. And they were girls, so I could just smile and flirt and it'd be okay. That and I hadn't 'ruined their life' in freshman year or anything. The chorus repeated a few more times before it faded out to breathy sighs of:

"Untouched."

"Okay, I've had it," Mom said suddenly and turned the radio off. Al and I looked at her, horrified. For Al, it was probably due more to the fact that he wasn't going to get to listen to music anymore. Me, well, now I was going to have that damn song stuck in my head. And it had that hypnotic beat and it was going to cause me to do something really stupid unless Winry, Russell, or Ling talked me out of it. And Winry wasn't going to help, I realized suddenly. She just wanted me to ask Envy out. But I couldn't, I mean, hell, he still thought I was straight.

"No, Al," Mom said again. "I can't stand your music. I'm getting a headache."

Al gave up trying to turn the radio back on. I just slumped back in my seat. This was not going to be a good day.

When I got to Calculus, all the seats were arranged in rows, instead of the normal groups. It was a lecture day and we could pretty much sit wherever we wanted, provided we didn't cause trouble. I'd gotten there a bit early, so I'd picked a seat in the middle of the class, not really next to anyone.

I was a bit surprised when Sloth sat down next to me. She smiled at me and peeled off her black gloves. She sighed and her manicured fingers quickly unbuttoned a few buttons on her pink trench coat. She crossed her legs and her grey tights rasped across each other. I eyed her boots. I'm not sure that even Winry could walk in those suckers, great black ankle boots of doom they were.

"It's warmer than I expected in here," she said, smiling.

"I know," I agreed. "It sucks because it's always freezing in Student Government."

"Ah," Sloth said. "That would suck. Fortunately, Mrs. Kursinska keeps her classroom _warm_. Not as warm as this, but definitely not an icebox. I think she got enough of that in Siberia."

"Yeah," I agreed. Sloth happened to be number two on the list of people I really didn't want to talk to. Envy was first. Well, I actually did want to talk _to_ him, but that wasn't going to happen any time soon. He'd probably bite my head off if I said hello.

"So, how was your weekend?" Sloth asked.

"Uh, it was fine," I said.

"Do anything _special_?"

"Not really, just went over to Roy's and studied a bit, then ran Al over to Manny's for something." And got into a screaming match with your brother. "You know, no big deal. Winry and I failed at teaching Sunday school. I hate small children."

"Ah," Sloth said, looking like she wanted to laugh or something. I'm not sure what she'd laugh at though, Sunday school? "Winry and you teaching? Oh wow. Miracles do happen, I guess."

"It was more like Winry tried to find the lesson plan and I popped in Prince of Egypt. Disney is excellent at hypnotizing children."

"Oh, but wasn't that like against the rules or something?" Sloth asked.

"Nah," I said. "It's actually the general fall back of Sunday school teachers. I managed to get a couple study guides of the Internet even. Worked like a charm."

"Pastor Edward," Sloth said, then giggled. "Somehow, I can't see that."

"Actually, it'd be Father Edward," I corrected. "My family's Catholic."

"Are you really?" Sloth asked. "I thought you were like Envy and me, just here for the education. I just don't see you as being a Latin speaking, anti-birth control, anti-abortion kind of guy."

"It's more my mom's thing. But we go to the Church of St. Mary Magdalene, it's a very liberal church," I explained. "They don't have positions so much as involve people in deeply philosophical and theological debates. The service is all in Latin though."

"That must be interesting," Sloth said.

"No, not really," I muttered. The teacher, Ms. Clara Psairen, had just walked in. She was ready to start the lecture and if there's one thing Ms. Psairen cannot tolerate, it's people who talk while she lectures.

"Oh?"

"Today, the lecture will be on the proper use of the chain rule and how it relates to taking the derivatives of certain equations that require u-substitution…"

"Imagine sitting in a church while the priest lectures in this language you cannot understand for hours and you can't do anything but—"

"Ah, Mr. Elric, since you appear know the subject well enough not to listen to today's lecture, why don't you work the example? Unless appearances have deceived me and you were just talking during my class?"

I did actually know the example, but only because I'd done the wrong set of problems for the homework a couple units back. But I remembered it well enough to work it on the board. That thing had taken forever.

"Very good, Mr. Elric," Ms. Psairen said once I finished. She smiled at me. "You may return to your seat."

"That was a close one," Sloth said. I just nodded.

As soon as I walked in the door of Hughes' classroom, he pounced.

"Ed," he said, grinning at me. "Look at these pictures of Elysia! Isn't she cute?"

"Hughes," I grumbled. I was not in the mood for this.

"She's wearing the prototype for this year's distance crew? What do you think of it?"

"_Pink?_"

"Er, well, she's not wearing the one you all are going to be getting. Little Elysia doesn't care much for Amestris' colors, you know. She insisted."

Even though that girl is only five, she has Hughes wrapped firmly around her little finger. As in, she's _going _to get that pony for her sixth birthday. Hughes has already organized a pony search party consisting of anyone who is knowledgeable about horses and/or ponies. As of now, there's a five-person buying team, three-person transport group, one student is scheduled to visit Hughes' house this Friday and make a report (detailing anything that needs to be changed to make the place pony proof), seven students are research the associated costs, and four are calling boarding stables in the area. Winry is in charge of the PowerPoint presentation that is going to convince Gracia that this is a good idea. Ling and I have been told to crunch various numbers that, allegedly, have something to do with school. And they might, assuming Amestris Academy is interested in boarding horses somewhere.

"Ah," I said, taking my seat next to Russell and Ling.

"Oh, and here's the distance track practice info. Thought you might like to do some pre-season training. Russell will tell you all about it," Hughes said still grinning manically. He was such a morning person. "Oh, and start drinking water now."

"You seriously are going to do it?" Russell asked. He looked thrilled. Misery does love company…

"Does it look like I have a choice?" I asked, waving the sheet in my hand.

"Well, you do," Ling said, smirking. "You can either join and keep on Mr. Hughes' good side or not join and fail this class."

"That's not a choice," I muttered. It was too early in the morning for Ling's inane babble that was damnably logical.

"So, I'm pleased to announce, that after many enthusiast requests, that we will, in fact, be putting on a type of Match Dance to make up for the sad lack of a Valentine's Day Dance," Hughes announced. I buried my face in my hands. This was a scene right out of my worst nightmare—no, wait, that one involved Sloth and Envy and a creepy doll.

"People have also requested that couples attend with their matches," Hughes continued. Russell gave off a strange moan.

"All my matches are girls," Russell muttered.

"Same here," Ling murmured. "Sucks, doesn't it?"

"Shut up," I said and glared. "This is not helping anything."

"Helping what?" Ling asked. "Everyone knows you're not going with your top match."

"Uh, actually," Russell said before I kicked him under the table. He looked unusually smug today. I wrote it off as nothing. He was probably just pleased that he currently knew more about me than Ling did. Or that I'd told him first.

"Shut up, Russell," I said and turned to Ling. This was going to suck balls. "I'm bi and like Envy."

Ling just blinked. Then laughed.

"That's a good one, Ed," he said upon recovering. "You almost had me believe that you were bi for Envy there."

"I'm serious," I said, looking him straight in the eye. "I li—feel strongly about Envy. And he hates me." I dropped my head to the desk and moaned. This felt like freshman year—after Envy—after _I_ screwed everything up—again. Like déjà vu, but much worse.

"Oh, um, there, there Ed," Ling said. He sounded completely shocked. "Um, I'm sure it will be fine?"

"Like you sound reassuring at all," Russell muttered.

"Shut it, Russell," Ling hissed. "At least I'm trying."

"Guys," I said. "Really, unless you can somehow convince Envy that I'm not the biggest douche bag since Hitler, you can't do much to help. Besides, Winry has this awful idea where I ask Envy out."

"Do it!" Russell said quickly, his smile growing. "It'll be perfect. You're like fulfilling my prophecy. " I don't even want to know what he's talking about. I have a feeling it's safer this way. Ling raised an eyebrow.

"That idea could have merit," he finally said.

"You all," Hughes said, pointing at me, Ling, and Russell, "You're in charge of setting up photos. Get a nice place to do them too! None of this LifeTouch stuff. Got it?"

"Yes sir," Ling said, not at all ironic. Hughes moved on.

"You do realize we now have a part in this?"

"Shit."

My thoughts were not coherent at all when I walked in to AP English. I was going to be spending the next hour or so sitting across from Envy, who hated me, and the collective advice of my friends was Ask Him Out. I just hoped that I'd get to English before he did.

I opened the door and caught sight of Envy's unmistakable green head. I tried to turn around and, I don't know, flee. But Russell and Ling barred my escape. Ling smiled sympathetically.

"Gotta face the music," he said patting my shoulder. Russell just smirked. I sighed and looked longingly at the door. I don't even know what I would do; I just did not want to do this.

I reluctantly walked to my seat and slumped down. Envy didn't even look at me at all. I sighed and looked up in time to see Russell wink at him. The bastard! Envy's _mine,_ dammit! Well, he's not technically _mine, _but Russell _knows_ I still like him and he can't just go and start flirting with him like that.

Envy's eyes widened and he turned red before looking down quickly. His hair fell into his face, but it's not enough to hide his blush. I narrowed my eyes. Russell definitely wasn't flirting. There's no way a wink, and not even a Russell-leer, can get that type of reaction. Not unless he's done something else.

I turned and glared over the top of Ling's head. Russell was so dead. And those comments in Student Government and his overall smug look. Oh, he was so dead.

"Oi! Bastard!" I called over at him. I just glared. Russell made a show of looking around, as if I could be referring to anyone else, before looking up.

"You mean me?" he asked, his eyes wide and filled with false innocence.

"Yes, you!" I hissed. I'm careful not to shout. I don't want Envy to hear this. I looked over at him out of the corner of my eye. He's involved in a conversation with Roy. Good. "What did you do?"

"Me?" Russell asked again. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Edward."

"You do too," I said and grind my teeth together. Russell can be extremely infuriating when he chooses to be and this happens to be one of those times. I glared at him.

"I'm sorry," Russell said. "I really don't know what you're referring to. Or whom you're referring to. But, he's okay with bi guys."

"YOU DID _WHAT?!_" I shouted suddenly. I can't believe this! Russell told or probably asked—I can't—this is impossible—he _would_ do something like—fucking idiot. The bell rang and people shuffled into the classroom hurriedly.

"Yo," Rix said, rising from his desk. The class quieted down. I continued to glare at Russell. He was going to get it. This was—unless Envy had—but no. Envy obviously hadn't reacted well or probably believed Russell. With good reason, though maybe then the whole asking out thing wouldn't be too terrible of a surprise for him.

"Since we accomplished nothing on Friday, I almost decided to send off Angeloff at the beginning of the period, so he won't cause another scene. But I don't think that's going to be necessary today."

I scowled at Rix. His puns _might've_ been funny in the past. But bringing up Friday _and_ the name pun. No, it's just no.

"He's being a complete asshole," I muttered to Ling.

"He's Rix," Sloth said, poking me in the shoulder. I turned to look at her. She was grinning. "What's the big deal?"

"It's just not nice or, or really professional," I said, squaring my shoulders. That had to be the lamest reason ever. It sounded so stupid and transparent. But it was all I could come up with—aside from, 'Despite prolonged exposure to Winry, I remain chivalrous to a fault, and as I like Envy, insulting him in unacceptable.' And I sure as hell wasn't going to say _that_.

"And since when has Rix been professional?" Sloth asked, with a wry grin.

"Uh," I paused. She's right. "Well, besides, your brother looks like Hell today. What happened to him?"

"Who knows?" Sloth asked. "He woke up in a bad mood today. Why so concerned?" She smirked at me.

"Uh," I stalled for time. If I speak now something like 'Because I'm bi and in love with him' will come out. And I don't want that to happen. Discussing my um feelings for Envy with Sloth is not something I want to do, now or ever. And then she'd—I don't even want to go there. Fortunately before she can press me further, Rix slapped a pile of papers down on my desk.

"We're taking a test, Elric," he said, "And unlike Monday's little survey _thing_, this gets turned into me and I grade it. So, please don't copy off an Angeloff this time. We all know what happened last time."

He slapped two more stacks on Ling's desk.

"Pass 'em back, Yao," Rix said before moving on.

I bit my tongue to avoid doing something really stupid, like telling Rix to fuck off. That wouldn't go over well. He probably wouldn't give me detention, but he'd definitely tease me, and Envy too, about it.

The test was two sheets of paper. One was pretty much like a word bank. It was labeled "Useful Terms Test" and had a bunch of the grammatical and literary stuff we'd been covering. I scrawled my name over the top before looking at the second page.

**Match the items on the list of useful terms to the following. Some of the selections below are examples, and some are definitions. Work slowly and carefully.**

Well, that makes everything clearer.

I decided to do the easy ones first.

_Any error in reasoning._

That would be a fallacy, right? Yeah. Or a mistake or an error.

Seven, on the Useful Terms list, is fallacy. I wrote a seven next to that question and moved on. I skipped past three, but four was easy. Anything that has like in it is obviously a simile. The more I learn the less I know—paradox. This essay will examine the—thesis? Yeah, though it's a fairly bad thesis. That thesis will not get you a five.

_She needed to visit the little girls room_. Oh, um, that's a, what? I skim the list. Euphemism. Yeah, that would work because she really needs to go to the bathroom but she's calling it something different.

Said parcel, contiguous on the south to the aforementioned …

That sounded a lot like the crap economists have been spewing about the economy. What the fuck are mortgage derivatives and what is calculus doing in my money? A mortgage isn't a function! It's not continuous at end points and it sure as hell won't pass a vertical line test. It's probably a point more than anything. Which would make the derivative fucking zero, not economy-crashing doom.

I looked up and—Envy. He was _there_. Right in front of me, and I know that if anyone had looked at me it would be so obvious that I liked him. It was just—I couldn't help myself. He paused, pursed his lips, and bit the tip of his pencil really gently.

I looked away quickly. He'd never—It was useless, but… Maybe? I mean, Russell said he was okay with bi guys. And Envy hadn't stormed up to demand what I thought I was doing or cuss me out for daring to have a crush on him. So that was a plus.

Then there was freshman year. Envy definitely hadn't minded me then. But what if he just thought I was a friend who had no concept of personal space? I mean, he obviously knew I was a guy. But, he can't have thought that I liked him. He asked me if I was gay and then I did the stupidest thing, to this date, in my entire life.

Fuck, he totally hates me.

I looked at the test.

Most of the questions were blank. It was either try to figure out grammar and such or try to figure out Envy. I flicked my barbell across my teeth. It clinked with a metallic sound. Fuuuck. I'd forgotten to change out the metal one for the pinkish plastic barbell. Great, with my luck, some observant teacher would spot it and Mom would kill me, probably by ripping my piercings out.

I clicked across my teeth again. Envy looked up suddenly. He glanced at Ling, who for once, _wasn't_ playing with his lip ring. I smirked at him. All I had to do was stick my tongue and then he wouldn't be able to think of anything else but me. He'd be mesmerized. He'd probably even say yes when I asked him out again.

Rix looked at me and raised his eyebrows. I looked down and finished my test quickly. Rix would see and he'd definitely report me. Besides, if Envy does fall for me, I'd like it to be because he likes _me_ and _not_ because I have bits of metal through my skin. Cheesy, but it's true.

AP History was just a bunch of stupid practice prompts. Basically we had to write a thesis and brief outline of our paragraphs for like six prompts. It was mind-numbingly simple and left me with ample time to think about Envy. Because if I wasn't straight, if I was bi, then I obviously wouldn't be a hypocrite, now would I?

The point is by the time lunch rolled around I didn't think asking Envy out was a bad idea at all. I mean, now that Russell had told him everything, Envy _had _to say yes. So the second the bell rang for lunch, I was out of my seat and sprinting for the door. I was the first one out. There is, after all, a reason our track team wins so much.

The instant I got out in the hallway was the instant I realized I didn't know where Envy was going to be. I had no idea what class he had after AP English. I had his schedule memorized freshman year and I just had assumed…

I stood there looking really stupid for a while while everyone else got out of class. I'd lost my advantage and had probably just irritated everyone in my AP History class for no reason. I was about to sigh and go to lunch with Winry or someone when I saw it: a flash of green. _Envy!_

"Envy!" I yelled at him. Plenty of people turned to look at me, but he didn't, he just kept walking away, weaving through the crowds of people. I started running. I shoved into people and I think I knocked some girl over, papers were flying everywhere, people were yelling and shoving, and I just shoved past them.

"ENVY!" I shouted again, and rushed toward him. He was about to turn the corner and leave me alone in a hallway of very angry people.

"Hey! Sunshine!" I yelled, desperate now. I _had_ to get his attention and the name just slipped out. It worked. He spun around. His eyes were wide and he wasn't wearing his glasses today. He stepped back, and looked around.

"What the fuck did you—what the fuck do you want?" Envy demanded. His face was slightly pink, he looked so cute—Bad Ed! Focus! Focus before he kills! Don't say 'Only you,' don't say 'Only you,' don't say it, don't say it…

"Ah, En, do you—do you wanna go out to lunch with me. We can do pizza or something, just whatever you want, please?" I said. It sounded so desperate—which it was—and so stupid—which I hoped it wasn't. I blushed, but didn't look away. I smiled nervously. That has always been effective when dealing with girls or, in Envy's case, boys who I thought were girls, or, well, now I guess I'm trying it on a guy whom I thought was a—Envy. Let's just hope it works.

It didn't.

He looked around as if trying to figure out the best way to escape. Then he glared at me.

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me," he said and turned away. I didn't even think. If I had I might've realized that a) Russell didn't tell Envy as much as I'd thought and b) touching Envy when he's corned and/or mad at you is always a rotten idea. But I wasn't thinking. So when Envy turned away I reached for him.

"But I'm not," I said, trying to convince him. If I could just touch him then maybe—he slapped my hand away. He looked at me, terrified. I just stared. I couldn't believe he hated me that much.

"Stop it," he said, backing away. "D-don't touch me!" And then he bolted. I just stood there. I looked down and bit my lip. I refused to _cry_ over this, even though it felt like my heart was breaking, broken. I sighed. I just wanted to go curl up somewhere far away and never come out. I rubbed the spot on my wrist where Envy touched me. It won't stop tingling. I sighed again and looked up.

Sloth Angeloff was standing there, with her pretty little vintage bag clutched to her chest. I don't ever stare at her boobs. I just don't care. They mean nothing to me.

"Do you want to go out to lunch with me?" she asked, smiling. "We can do pizza or whatever you want."

Okay, now I really don't know how I ever found Sloth attractive. I mean, attitude is great, up until a point. Then it's just bitchy or annoying or both (Lyra). Fortunately, I didn't burst into tears at that point, so that's _one _good thing. I laughed; only it sounded more like a choked sob—which it _wasn't_—than anything else.

"You know a place that serves really good Envy?" I asked, and tried to smile. It comes out one-sided and brittle. Judging from Sloth's suddenly sympathetic look, it doesn't convince her that I'm fine.

"Come on," Sloth said and she grabbed my arm. I let her lead me out of school and toward the parking lot. "It's about time we really had a talk."

Sloth held open the passenger seat door for me with mocking bow. I ignored her and just got in. I didn't feel like doing much. I still couldn't believe it. He said no. He acted like I was the worst thing alive. I'd thought, I'd thought that it would be different. I thought that maybe if I did it in the hallway Envy would realize that I didn't care about rumors or what people would say. Sloth turned on the radio.

"Don't even talk about the consequence, cause right you're the only thing that's making any sense to me and I don't give a damn what they say or what they think."

Oh fucking God NO! Not this song, not now dammit!

"Chinese food okay?" she asked.

"Sure," I said and clicked my seatbelt in. Fuck Russell, this is all his fault. Why did I even listen to Winry? I should've known. It was so obvious. Winry is, of course, the one who told me to ask Envy out in the first place, you know, when I still thought _he_ was a girl.

Sloth remained silent as she pulled out of the parking lot and drove somewhere. I was just staring out the window and not really paying attention, so I was a bit surprised when we ended up at this tiny, little Chinese place. It's not somewhere I'd expect Sloth to hang out, but I guess the plus side is that it's not some place where rich prep school kids eat, so I won't see anyone I know. I waited from Sloth to do something. This day has sucked balls.

"Well, here we are," she said and got out of the car. "Don't worry, it's nicer than it looks, and the food's sanitary. I think." She gave me a pitying look. "Envy and I were going to come here today."

"Oh," I said. Great; now I'd ruined Envy's lunch with his sister. I was on a roll, wasn't I? Maybe I should just stay the hell away from him. "You wanted to talk?" I asked, trying to avoid thinking of leaving Envy. It would—it would be awful. I sniffed suddenly. I think I'm allergic to something in Sloth's car.

"Ed," Sloth said, coming around to the passenger side. She opened the door and looked down at me. "Come on, I don't have any tissues in my car." She paused. "Look, about En... He's... difficult. And he... Well, I'll save that for later. Are you hungry? Or do you not want to eat?"

"I'm not crying," I muttered, but still I wiped my nose. It was just some sort of Jaguar allergy. "And I'll eat."

"Good," Sloth said briskly. She leads the way into the restaurant. "Come on then." I followed her. There's not much else I can do. And it's better than thinking about—no! I won't, it's useless, and he _hates_ me and—not going there.

I, despite the manners my mother taught me, let Sloth step up to the counter and order. She smiled at the small Chinese woman behind the counter and placed the order in the same singsong language the woman spoke. The woman's eyes lit up and she enthusiastically chatted with Sloth before disappearing into the back.

"Impressive," I said, eyeing Sloth. Not that there's much to eye. She has her pink trench coat on and it has a surprisingly slimming affect on her body, provided that you don't realize that boobs always look smaller under coats and just the fact that you can _see_ the swell of her chest…

We ended up sitting at a small corner table. It's fairly warm, but Sloth didn't remove her coat. The woman came by and set a teapot and small cups on the table. Sloth poured tea into the cups.

"So, why the sudden interest in my brother?" Sloth asked, taking a sip of her tea. She peered at me over the edge of her cup "Does this have something to do with what happened at Manny's?"

"You know what? I don't even know," I said. I sipped my tea. It was hot. I honestly don't know when I realized that liked Envy. It was more that we just clicked, and then at Roy's, and I don't find him attractive, for a girl, he just is. And I just like him. "It's weird, like I guess, I saw him at Roy's house this weekend. Only, I thought he was a girl, one of Roy's, for a couple of minutes and, he's just Dream Girl, you know?"

"But he's not a girl," Sloth pointed out. "You found that out two years ago."

The conversation stopped while the woman came out with the soup and egg rolls that Sloth had apparently ordered. They chatted a while before the woman returned to the kitchen or whatever.

"Yeah, well, he doesn't exactly look like any of the girls I've found attractive," I said. I know perfectly well that Envy is, indeed, male. I fidget with the spoon for the soup. "And I realized yesterday that I'm bi, so yeah?"

"You're bisexual because you still think Envy's like a girl?" Sloth asked.

"No," I muttered. "I've kissed guys before. And found them attractive. And Envy with boobs is just _wrong._" I shuddered at the image.

Sloth laughed.

"He's so skinny he'd probably tip over if he got what runs in the family," she said, greatly amused. "So, basically, in two days you've decided you're pretty much still crazy for Envy." She rested her chin on her hand. "Am I correct?"

"Yeah, sounds stupid now that you mention that," I said and smiled. "I—I don't know if you know this, but I am really sorry about freshman year. That was really, really stupid thing to do."

"Why are you apologizing to me?" Sloth asked mildly. "But I know. I knew back then. It's not me you need to convince."

"But he won't listen to me," I moaned. I tried the soup. It was pretty good. I sighed and looked at Sloth. "He won't. He wouldn't listen to me then and he won't listen to me now."

Sloth reached across the table and cupped my face in her hand. "Come on, buck up," she said. "Why do you think he was so angry?"

"I don't know! That's the thing, he's never told me. I mean, he yelled something at me in Manny's about being a hypocrite, and Winry seems to think it means something about Envy getting irritated that he's the only one who had to deal with rumors because I got Rose. Which is stupid, because I'm friends with Russell and Ling. I've kissed Ling before too, so it's not like I hate gays or anything," I blurted out. I really don't know. He looked so terrified of me and—

"You know, Envy's used to rumors. He's weird, and he knows it. Granted, those rumors were particularly malicious, but he's the type that can brush off anything," Sloth said. I began to interrupt her. She held up a hand to stop me. "Think. You were flirting with him pretty seriously back then, weren't you?"

"Yes," I said. I blushed. "I—I talked to my mom about it. I was going to introduce Envy to my very Catholic mother." Not that Mom wouldn't have been thrilled to meet Envy, even in freshman year. Now, after going through Lyra, I don't think my mom really cares what my prospective significant others look like.

"So you were prepared to get pretty serious, huh?" Sloth asked. "And how do you think Envy felt about your advances?" She took a bite out of one of the egg rolls.

"Fuck, I have no idea," I said. I ran my fingers through my hair. "I thought he was a girl, so I didn't really think much of it. But damn, I don't know what he thought I was."

Sloth rubbed her temples. I know that look. Winry wears it all the time when she thinks Russell, Ling, or I are being unnecessarily thick.

"Okay. Let me spell this out for you. You're a freshman in high school coming from a rather friendless middle school and someone is offering you friendship. Real, unconditional friendship. And then they seem to like you. A lot. And you've never really considered your orientation before but they're flirting with you and you... you think, Maybe this isn't so bad." She paused. "And then it turns out that person was interested in you because they were under the impression you were a girl." She looked at me. "How does that feel?"

"That would... suck, a lot," I said taking another sip of tea. I wasn't feeling all that hungry. "Suck doesn't even begin to cover it, friendless? Oh God, I've really fucked this up, oh fuck."

Sloth has the nerve to giggle. I glowered at her. This wasn't funny.

"Ah, so now you begin to see? From his point of view (and mine, but I'm not holding it against you), you screwed him over like nothing else."

"Oh fuck, I'm sorry, I'm—and at Manny's oh fuck, no wonder he…" I trailed off. Oh God, now that made more sense. It must've, wow, okay now I want to know why Envy didn't throw his ice cream at me.

"Yeah, so we've got a lot of work to do!" Sloth said brightly. "It's time for you to stop playing dumb and get with it." She snapped her fingers. "Envy's dumb enough for the both of you."

"I think I'm worse. I told him to get over it at Manny's because Roy's been worse than I've ever been. He didn't take it well," I said.

"I know," Sloth said. I sighed. It's as if nothing surprises her. Though Envy's probably been ranting about how awful I am for the past two years. "You were a jerk. I'm not surprised Envy doesn't trust you."

"I didn't mean to do this," I said, nettled. I wasn't exactly thrilled after that incident either. "Losing him sucked, he was pretty much my best friend too, and I still wanted to be around him, after I thought about it, but he wouldn't listen to me."

"Well, what's done is done." Sloth dismissed my protests with a wave of her hand. "It's not like you have to give up on him now. In fact, if I were you, I'd be encouraged." She smiles at me in an all too cheerful way.

"What's there to be encouraged about? That he didn't punch me in the face? That he just ran away this time?" I asked sarcastically.

"If he runs away," Sloth explained, "It means he's afraid. And if he's afraid of getting close to you, it means he's afraid of getting his heart broken. Which in turn means that you still have enough power over him to break it." She paused. "Something like that."

"Great," I muttered. "What am I supposed to do then? Stick my tongue out at him?"

Sloth tapped her chopsticks against her lower lip. "I... hmmm..." She paused again. "How would that help?" Sloth asked, wrinkling her nose.

I smirked and stuck out my tongue. It's almost a relief to do this. People asking about my piercings is a lot better than being told exactly _how_ I screwed up with Envy and _why_ have no chance whatsoever with him.

Sloth's eyes widened. "O—oh," she said, intrigued. "We don't have too much time now, but I expect you to tell me the story behind that later." She smiled. "Envy prefers lip piercings, as I'm sure you've noticed, but..." She laughed. "Showing him your tongue would definitely intrigue him."

"I have another piercing too," I said and smile, but I didn't show her. I stirred the soup. "Now what exactly should I do to get Envy to trust me, aside from the whole piercings thing, though I don't think he'd appreciate it if I exploited his fetish."

"Bring him chocolate," Sloth suggested with a smile. I shrugged. Sloth and he just bought chocolates Friday. And there's no way Envy could be done with whatever they bought. Not unless he has a serious addiction, and he doesn't; I mean, he's downright scrawny, in a completely sexy—focus Ed! Sloth is speaking!

"Honestly, the best you can do is just keep talking to him. And don't get discouraged if you get rejected. I know you don't cry—" she rolled her eyes, "—but yeah, don't let it get you down. It's just how Envy is. You'll win him over, I just know it." A pause. "And now I have a question for you."

"I still have the chocolates I bought, raspberry and chocolate, from Friday, those good?" I said, figuring that those two bags might as well be good for something. I'd only opened one and even that was mostly full. I don't have an addiction to chocolate like Envy seems to have. "Go ahead, ask."

"Perfect," Sloth said and then her grin turned into a leer. "So, is Rose good in bed?"

"I wouldn't know," I said, trying to pretend this was normal. I guess it was just as well that I decided that I didn't like Sloth that way, as it would obviously _never happen._ "I mean, she's a great kisser and obviously has some pretty, well, you know." I then made what had to be the most awkward hand gestures, especially because Sloth also has gigantic knockers. "But um, no, I, we never got that far. She used to be a gymnast, before she got so tall."

"A gymnast?" Sloth asked, leaning forward enthusiastically. I sincerely hope she and Russell never discuss sex. Neither of their respective partners will be pleased. And God, if they get together, I don't even want to think about that. "So she must be real flexible, right?"

"She is," I said and shrugged. I didn't get to experience much of it, as we never got that far, but from what little we did do… well, Rose can bend herself into some pretty impossible positions. "Her mom's hobby is contortion, and she and Rose still take classes together, I think. So there's that."

Sloth chose that time to look at the clock. "Oh damn, we've got to get out of here. We're totally gonna be late!"

"Yeah, fuck, I have German too," I said. "Mrs. Fischer hates late people."

I did end up making it back to school in time to slip into my seat seconds before the bell rang. Mrs. Fischer glared at me but didn't end up yelling. The class went by quickly. I spent most of the time tapping my foot and slowly driving my desk mate insane, if his increasingly irritated looks were anything to go by.

AP Chem was just lecture notes and the walk home—well, Russell wisely decided not to say anything and Winry yattered on about the songs she wanted played at the dance. And I, I tried really hard not to think about Envy.

"We should really include Untouched by the Veronicas," Winry said, excitedly. "They're this awesome new band that doesn't get much radio play. They're Australian, too, and twins."

"Really?" Russell said. He looked interested. "Twins you say?"

"How does the song go?" I asked. Winry's great at discovering awesome dancing songs and maybe it'll be a nice cheerful song.

"I feel so untouched, right now need you so much, and I just can't resist you, not enough to say I miss you!" Winry sang out.

"Hey, I know that song!" Russell said excitedly. "I feel so untouched right now want you so much, somehow I can't forget you! Been crazy since the moment I met you!"

Fuck. I think I hate that song that song, right now hate it so much I just can't—NO! Fucking song, fucking Aussie twins, fucking Envy. This sucks and now that stupid—need you so much and—goddamn song is stuck in my head and—not enough to say that I—and it won't go away!

Fucking hate my life.

* * *

Fin. Okay, PFF, song is by the Veronicas as is stated. They are pro-gay rights. One of them kisses lesbian supermodels (but only as friends) and the other was at a No On Prop 8 rally. That and the song was recommended to us. AND THEN I GOT IT STUCK IN MY HEAD and decided to make everyone else suffer, because I'm a giver like that. Oh, and we're putting together a soundtrack for this too! Thank you to all the reviewers! You guys are awesome!


	15. Chapter 15

AN by Potions For Foxes: I am so tired. It's almost 1 in the morning. So tired. Very good chapter. Hope it explains a few things. The gift to our hundredth reviewer, D E M Z Y, is going to be Ling's take on the events that take place in the chapter. Indy thinks this is cheating, as we role-played it and I don't have to do too much work. But yeah… Still tired.

Umm, so about the chapter, it's very good. It should shed some light on some things. That was a very vague sentence. I am so tired. Err, actually, this whole thing is just really cute and generally adorable. It's just really, really cute. And Envy gets pointed in the right direction. So, um, yeah. So tired. Need sleep…Read, review, next chapter in 4 or 5 days more or less.

I love the way Indy writes Envy, he's so adorable and just _aww_. Oh and a warning for that one reviewer who corrected on the Vatican II (and set Indy off on a rant, because she's actually Catholic and knows the finer points of Vatican II), Envy is going to just cry and bitch, so STFU. I would put j/k, but I'm not really kidding, I'm not serious either… I am Sirius though… just kidding, God I need sleep.

So, yeah. Envy does kinda breakdown, only it's really, really, really cute. And adorable. And Ling's there too.

As for the slowness of the plot, it gets faster. Chapters 16 and 17 are two slower chapters, but I think that Chapters 18 through 21 are going to make up for it. So yeah, don't worry.

To clarify, snakebites are two lip piercings generally on different sides of the mouth.

Chapter by indigo's ocean:

Stupid Cupid

_(quit hitting on me)_

Chapter Fifteen

When I ran away I didn't much look where I was going. I just wanted to get away from everyone, away from all the stupid people who were watching, away from Sloth who had probably seen the whole thing, and _especially_ away from Ed. I just... I didn't want to think about anything, any more - what he had said, what I had done - but I couldn't stop. The scene just kept playing in my mind like my brain was some kind of broken record.

_...Out to lunch with me...?_

_You've gotta be kidding._

_I'm not..._

_D-don't touch me!_

I couldn't breathe. My head was pounding. I couldn't see - I would have thought I was having some kind of seizure if I didn't know it was tears that were obscuring my vision. The hallways gradually quieted, emptied of people, and finally I came to a deserted set of lockers. I didn't think about what I was doing or who would see me, I just dropped my bookbag and collapsed to the floor so quickly that one of my knees bumped the tile hard enough to leave a bruise and the back of my head hit the metal locker doors with a crash.

My bag fell open as it dropped, spilling papers everywhere. I didn't care. It was just... just something I would have to take care of later, once I had regained my breath and a semblance of composure.

I closed my eyes so I wouldn't have to see the reactions of any passers-by, and focused on inhaling and exhaling, shallow but slow breathing so I wouldn't start hyperventilating. I didn't understand what the hell Ed was trying to pull. He wanted to go out to lunch with me; that part wasn't a joke by any means. I had seen his earnesty in his face. And according to Russell, he was crazy for me - but wasn't that a little late, after freshman year? After I had spent two years trying to ignore him and hate him and not care about him, after I had spent two years building walls, he decided he wanted to come in and smash them all down.

How _stupid_ and _inconsiderate_... but what the hell was _I _doing? I shouldn't have stopped when he yelled. Even if he had used the nickname. I shouldn't have stopped. But I had, and, and that probably proved something. Probably proved something I didn't think - I didn't _want_ to happen, ever.

I heard footsteps coming down the hall and shut my eyes even tighter. It was okay, they would just pass by. If I pretended I was sleeping... but then I might look like I was unconscious... To compromise, I shifted a little as I heard the person grow closer. If I was lucky - and I deserved some luck, with all the shit I had taken already today - they'd just pass on by.

But Murphy had learned long ago that whatever can go wrong _will_ go wrong, and I was reaping the rewards of his discovery. The footsteps stopped when they reached me. I pretended I didn't notice and waited for them to leave.

"Hey," the person said. "You okay?" If I hadn't been using all my concentration to hold back tears, I would have smacked my head against the lockers and pray it knocked me out. The voice - it was Ling.

Oh, hell. Oh fucking hell, I didn't - I _couldn't_ deal with this now. Not Ling and his lip ring, not the Ling I stared at through every English class, not the Ling who I had had a crush on since... since sophomore year. I tried to ignore him. I tried, but he wouldn't let me.

I felt him poking at my cheek. I wanted to hit him and run away but I couldn't move. Couldn't do anything but keep from crying. "Envy, are you alright?"

I opened my eyes. I was planning to tell him to go away or that everything was fine, but when I saw him kneeling down next to me, peering at my face and biting his lip and that _damn_ piercing... It wasn't fair, how much I liked him and couldn't have him because I still liked - I still - it was...

And suddenly I was crying, drawing up my knees and trying to hide my face. I hated crying in front of people. It made me feel like such a dumbass. I wanted to turn invisible. I wanted to crawl under a rock and hide. I wanted Ling to decide he didn't care and walk away. Only, at the same time, I didn't want that. I didn't want that at all.

Ling's voice was hesitant when he said, "Um, there, there," patting my shoulder awkwardly. I didn't want him to touch me or try to comfort me. If he did, if he tried any more, I would... "It's okay..."

No, it wasn't, it was anything _but_ okay and I couldn't take it any more. I was tired, and my head hurt, and my nose was running, and Russell had kissed me, and my papers were spread out across the floor, and Edward fucking Elric had just asked me to lunch... And I had never thought that I could get this close to Ling, and now that I _had_...

Ling leaned a little closer, obviously concerned, and suddenly, before I even knew what I was doing, I had my arms wrapped around him and my head buried in his chest. It was nice to have something to hold on to. It was nice to have someone to cry on, someone other than Sloth who would comfort me but lord it over me later, someone other than Roy who would comfort me but wouldn't let me hug him.

As I sobbed, Ling's fingers traced soft, featherlight patterns on my back, oddly calming, comforting. I hugged him tighter, my shoulders shaking. I was making a huge effort to stifle the noise of my crying, but managed to apologize a little. "I'm... sorry," I mumbled into Ling's shirtfront, between quick, sobbing breaths. "It's just... Fuck, why did he have to ask?"

"Um?" Ling said questioningly, and I realized that he probably didn't know what had happened a few minutes before. I also realized that he probably wasn't comfortable with some random classmate squeezing out his insides and getting his shirt all snotty and wet, but I couldn't stop.

I felt movement and looked up a little to see Ling leaning over and grabbing up my papers and stuffing them into my bookbag one-handedly - the other hand was still wrapped around my shoulders. When he finished he slung my bag over his shoulder and, still cradling me against his chest, helped me up. "Uh, come on then," he said as he towed me into an empty classroom and settled me down onto the old, battered couch at the back. I had managed to get a hold of myself and reign in my crying a little until I recognized it as the health classroom. Health had been the only class I shared with Ed, back in freshman year.

But I forced myself to ease up my grip on Ling, loosening my arms so I wasn't clinging like a limpet to his back. Well, clinging like a healthy limpet anyway; I was probably still latched on like a limpet on its deathbed. I took a few deep, shuddering breaths, letting my shoulders relax but removing my head from his chest. It was probably making him uncomfortable. "I'm... s-sorry," I told him shakily. I bet he was regretting he had stopped to ask if I was okay. If I were in his position, I would be.

"You don't have to apologize," Ling said. He kept his arms wrapped around me and I almost started crying again out of gratitude and relief. "...It sounds like you've had a rough couple of weeks."

"I-I guess," I replied, trying to calm my deep, gasping breaths. "It was mostly because..." I leaned back into Ling as I felt tears fill my eyes once again. "Ed asked me out to lunch," I told him with another stifled sob.

"Oh?" Ling asked. He sounded surprised, probably because he couldn't imagine anyone having this type of reaction to something so stupid, so silly. Or because he couldn't imagine golden boy Edward Elric getting rejected... I shut my eyes tightly, trying not to start wailing. "Where to?"

I flinched. "P-pizza, o-or anywhere I w-wanted," I managed, squeezing him again. At that point Ling had probably started to feel like he was being treated as my own personal plushie. "H-he's not sup-supposed to l-like me!"

And I started crying again, hating how I couldn't stop sobbing over something so pointless and stupid. But Ling kept his arms around me and he didn't leave.

"Perhaps you could have told him that in freshman year," Ling muttered, patting my back to take the sting from his words. "Why isn't Ed supposed to like you?"

Through sheer effort of will I managed to get control of myself again. I was breathing heavily but I wasn't sobbing, or wailing, or hiccupping, like I tended to do after a crying session. "It was... different in freshman year," I told him heavily. "I thought... I mean..." I took a deep breath and let it out again. "He thought I was a girl and I..." My next words were whispered. I couldn't say them out loud. "I thought he really liked me."

"He _did_ really like you," Ling said, stroking my hair. I relaxed into his touch. I love it when people do that. "We discussed it in Student Government. He's bi, you know?"

I didn't have any emotion to spare for that revelation besides weary bitterness. "So now he realizes?"

"I know," Ling said sympathetically. "Ed has shit timing. But he means well. And he really does like you."

"Oh really?" I asked, once again unable to imbue my voice with any emotion but tired, cynical resignation. "Then how did he mean it when he yelled about me not being a girl? How can he be anything but straight?" He _had_ to be straight. Otherwise he could really... we could... He had to be straight.

Ling's reply was slow, thoughtful. "Everyone is an idiot freshman year. It's allowable, really. And how would you feel if, er... Are you gay? Or at least un-straight?"

I wasn't sure whether the noise I made was a laugh or a choked sob. That was the first time someone had asked me that since... since freshman year, and everything with Ed. "Yeah," I told him. "Mostly thanks to Ed and his awful flirting... and your friend Russell."

"I apologize for Russell," Ling said. "He needs to be kept on a leash, really. And Ed needs flirting lessons badly. I keep offering to teach him, but _no_, Edward L. Elric is an expert. But I digress." I could hear the smile in his voice and it made me smile a little, too. "The point is, how would you feel if the guy you were head-over-heels for turned out to be a girl? Oh and you find out as you ask them out. Or undress them for sex - whichever is more psychologically damaging."

I followed Ling's train of thought and winced into his chest. "That would... that would be one strange girl," I attempted, well aware of the irony in that statement. As if I were any different, seeing as Ed had thought I was a girl for about five months. "But... I guess I can see where he was coming from, now. Did he really need to yell, though?"

"Idiot freshman," Ling said matter-of-factly. "And he's always been prone to shouting. You know how it is when you call him short?"

Once, back in freshman year of course, I had told him that he was probably too short to reach the top of his locker without a stool. He had been so angry, too, and at first I had been surprised until I saw him glaring at me with that indignant, red-faced look - and then I had burst out laughing. Which had only led to another bout of one-sided shouting. I surprised myself by giggling at the memory. "Yeah, I do remember that," I said to Ling. "My ears were ringing the whole period after."

"Ed can do that to you," Ling said, leaning back against the couch. His arm stayed around my shoulder so that I was nestled into his side. It was comfortable. I liked it, but not in a... I guess not in a sexual way. It was more friendly than anything, especially now that I couldn't see his lip ring, and made me realize that I probably couldn't get in a real relationship with him. "So why not date him?" Ling continued. "What's the worst that can happen?"

_He can wake up one day and realize that I'm still not a girl and he doesn't want to be in a relationship with a slightly-crossdressing fag_, I thought, but didn't say so out loud, instead sniffling and wiping my nose. "A-a lot," I told Ling. Too much.

"Like what?" Ling pressed. "He's much more of a gentleman than Russ." I didn't want to know what Ling was thinking. Unfortunately, having had an encounter with Russell earlier that morning, I had a pretty good idea.

I wasn't talking about things like that, though, however much of a 'gentleman' Ed supposedly was. "I know," I said, slumping a little more into Ling. It was just that... "I... I think I really liked him, back in freshman year. A lot." Because he had stayed in that room at the party and watched _Little Miss Sunshine_ with me, and he had kept in touch, and he had started flirting, and he had bought me ice cream...

And he had run away.

"And you don't now?"

"I don't want to," I mumbled. Because I didn't. It was so much easier just to let Ed live his life, to call him Edward fucking Elric and ignore him and glare at him and keep him as far away as possible, so nothing like that would happen again. "I think I could," I admitted, "but I really don't want to."

Ling shifted a little next to me. "Why not?"

I laughed, though it came out kind of like a sob. "Guess I'm stupid," I said. It wouldn't be far from what most of my family thought. "But back in freshman year it really hurt. That he just, I dunno, just ran away. Even if he apologized afterward. It still wasn't... It didn't help. I mean, he only liked me because he thought I was a girl. He only flirted with me because I looked like a _fucking_ girl." The tears were coming back and I felt like such an idiot. I sniffed and wiped my eyes viciously, but Ling noticed.

"There, there," he said, wrapping both arms around me again. He rubbed my back and I blinked back a few more tears. "And what about now?" he continued. "Ed knows you're a guy and he still asked you out."

"I guess..." I said hesitantly, leaning into Ling's touch. "But I'm still scared. Of liking him again, I mean." Which was... which was really kind of dumb and reactionary. I imagined Vanessa slapping me with one of his tentacles and telling me to get with the program, use some logic. "It's not very rational, is it?"

"It's perfectly rational," Ling replied staunchly, and the specter of Vanessa vanished with a _poof_. "You got hurt last time, didn't you? You're just going to have to trust him again." He paused. "You might want to keep him on pins and needles for a while though. Ed's _hilarious_ when he thinks his... er, his significant other is mad at him. He'll do anything for you then. I'd exploit it."

I laughed. "I am mad at him, though," I said, my voice bright with the sudden elation that always comes after a good cry. "I'm fucking _pissed_!" But I admitted it with a bright smile. Actually, I was surprised at how much better I felt. It was a complete one-eighty from my mood this morning, especially since my head had stopped hurting, too.

"Good," Ling said, leaning back against the couch and stretching out his legs. I'm not sure if he means it's good I'm pissed or it's good I've stopped crying - probably the latter. "Ed probably knows that." Well, there was no way he couldn't, after what had happened at Manny's... I stifled a laugh. "Maybe you could say hi to him in English or something," Ling suggested. "He'd..." A pause. "Today Ed was pretty pissed at Rix for making fun of you. He's very protective, that one. You wouldn't have to worry about rumors or people like Lyra with him. He'd protect you, violent pipsqueak that he is."

I tensed. "I don't need someone to _protect_ me," I told him scornfully. Just because people made up lies about me and I looked like a girl didn't mean I was some sort of damsel in distress. I didn't need a fucking white knight or savior or anything. That would be _stupid_. "I can take care of myself just fine, thanks."

"Still, Ed does it well," Ling continued airily. I was a bit surprised by his nonchalant reaction to my snapping reply. I usually hung around people who would snap back or mock my ire. "_I_ wouldn't mind it. Hell, he dated Winry for a week and _she_ didn't kill him. I lost money on that. I thought she'd kill him in three days. Russell said one day."

He started stroking my hair again and I relaxed. "You guys don't have much faith in him, do you?" I asked. Maybe it wouldn't be too terribly bad to have a protector. Maybe. But I could still fight my own battles.

"It was more like we had a lot of faith in Winry," Ling said, smiling. "She's very feministic. And violent. And carries around wrenches." I wondered whether that wasn't some sort of dress-code violation. Or, you know, against the whole 'Do not bring weapons to school' rule. "Besides, you and Ed would be great together. He won't put up with crap from Russell. Winry would love you too. And you're _loads_ better than Lyra. Man, she was a bitch. Even Al, love and sunshine, hated her."

"I don't think he likes my cousin much either," I muttered, comparing Wrath to Lyra and wondering what they had in common that Al would dislike. Louder, I said, "I should _hope_ I'm better than that bitch Lyra!"

"You'd also be better than Rose. She didn't talk much, that one." Rose was really quiet; I wondered what Sloth saw in her. Besides, you know, the boobs. I bit my lip a little, and Ling peered at me. "What's that?" he asked, placing a thumb on the small scar near the corner of my lower lip.

He was touching my lip. A few days ago I would have been so happy to have him this close, like this. I smiled. "What it looks like."

"Piercing scar?" Ling asked. He looked more surprised than I thought he would have been. "You didn't. I mean, you always stare at mine, but really?"

"Why not?" I blushed. So Ling had noticed my reaction to his lip ring. To be fair, though, I had never been particularly subtle about it... Roy was right. It had been obvious.

"It's okay about the staring," Ling assured me with a shrug. "Freshman year, Ed, your supposed Mr. Straight-and-Narrow, couldn't take his eyes off it."

I laughed. It figured. "It, um, it looks really good on you," I told him, blushing a little. Never thought I'd be saying _that_. "But yeah, I got a piercing the summer after freshman year."

"Why'd you take it out?" Ling asked. He brushed my lip with his thumb again. "I think you'd look really cute with snakebites or something." Was he flirting? Maybe. But after spending all that time to try and convince me that Ed was Not a Bad Guy (the jury's still out on that one, though they're trickling back in one by one), he couldn't be. He knew how fascinated I was already with his lip ring; it'd be like going and tearing down everything he had tried to build up.

"It got a little infected," I said. It had been healing fine until I had put in one of those non-hypoallergenic rings a little too early, and then it had started hurting a _lot_. And swelling. And refusing to heal. "And I really hate pain."

"And you got it pierced why?" That was a good point. Why get a piercing in the first place if you hate pain? But, I dunno, that pain would have been compensated for by the fact that I would have a totally awesome piercing. And it was worth it... until it started to get infected. "Russ is the same way. He won't get anything pierced, which is a shame."

"I _like_ piercings," I said, a defensive tone creeping into my voice. "And I would get it pierced again -" maybe "- but my dad threatened to throw me out of the house if I did something like that again." I guess he drew the line at nail polish. Or maybe he hadn't noticed that yet. "I need to eat and sleep more than I need a piercing."

Ling nods. "Ah, Ed's parents - well, his mom; his dad's a total hippie - are like that too. Mrs. Elric wasn't too pleased with all his stuff. And like I said, Russ won't do it either. But it's understandable." He shrugged. "College, maybe."

"Yeah," I agreed. Maybe. Then an earlier statement struck me. "Ed's what?" Stuff? Which referred to... what?

"Yeah, Ed has two piercings, actually." My eyes widened. _Ed_? With _piercings_?! Where? They weren't in his ears, I probably would have caught that, and his lip wasn't pierced unless he just didn't wear the piercing at school. But then he'd have a hole in his lip and I probably would have noticed that too. "They're hard to find," Ling continued, piquing my curiosity even more. "But once you know where they are... Just try not to stare. Ed will probably take that as permission to do something really stupid. Like kiss you in English or beat up Rixie."

I blinked. "Where are they?"

"Here's the deal," Ling said, smiling at me. "I'll tell you where they are if you talk to Ed tomorrow. Eat lunch with him or something."

I winced. "Tomorrow, really?" That was too soon. Really soon. It would be... it would be weird to just go up to Ed and strike up a conversation after I had rejected him so thoroughly just an hour ago... and I didn't know if I was brave enough. It was all well and good discussing the _possibility_ of Ed and I starting a relationship, but to actually _act_ on it... "Is it really worth it?"

Ling smirked. "You think my piercing is cool, just wait til you see his. It made kissing him totally worth it. That, and his leather pants... Man, Lyra was pissed."

"You've _kissed_ him?!" I squawked. "Er, not that I'm, you know, _jealous_ or anything -" because I honestly wasn't; I wouldn't be jealous of Ling "- it's just, I mean, I can't imagine him doing something like that..." Which made it sound like I was dissing Ling? No, it didn't. I just sounded like I really was jealous or that I really wanted to kiss Ed - which, okay, _maybe_ it wouldn't be that bad and I was curious about his piercings, but still.

"I was a bit surprised too," Ling admitted. I looked up at him. Was he blushing? "Ed initiated it too. Allegedly, it was only to make Lyra mad, but, I mean, he's not quite stupid enough to fall for a 'Look, Lyra!' more than once and he 'fell' for it about three, four times. He's a great kisser, too. You'll love him."

Now it was my turn to blush. "That's assuming - I mean, assuming that we'll, uh..." My brain was rapidly derailing. "You're assuming a lot!"

"I know Ed," Ling replied with a cheerful confidence. "He is one stubborn nut. Plu-_us_, piercings. He wants to get more, too."

More besides his existing mystery metal? Where would he get more? Where was he pierced already? Since they were hard to find I'd imagine they were covered up by clothing, but then one (or both) also had to do with kissing, which meant... I wasn't going to dwell on this; it would only make my brain hurt. And make me stare at him in class tomorrow. Which, as Ling had said, would probably lead to surprising and not altogether welcome results.

The bell rang, startling both of us.

"Fine," I said suddenly, surprising myself with my split-second decision. As they always say, curiosity killed the cat. "I'll talk to him tomorrow - I'm not promising anything more - and you'll tell me where his piercings are."

"Atta boy!" Ling said and ruffled my hair like I was some kind of dog. I laughed and dodged away from his hand.

"Stop it!"

Ling grinned at me. "Sorry," he said, and he didn't sound sorry at all.

"Ah, damn." I stood and stretched, wiping my eyes one more time. They were probably all red. My contacts were irritating me from having cried earlier. "I have Precalc next. I hate math."

Ling stood up as well. "Here, I'll walk you there. I have Chinese next, and the classrooms are pretty close." He bent down to rummage in his bag and came up with a Styrofoam takeout container. He opened it and offered some to me. "Potsticker? Sorry they're cold." As I took one, he continued, "Meh, math is okay. Ed's good at it. He could help you."

I chose to ignore that little comment about Ed and take a bite of the potsticker. It was cold but good, and reminded me that I was supposed to go to lunch with Sloth today. We were going to have Chinese. Which reminded me of something else - "Sloth can speak a little Chinese, you know," I told Ling as he shouldered his bag and I picked up my own.

"That's cool," he replied, holding open the door for me. I smiled at him. "But girls are squishy. Especially your sister - so very squishy."

I was surprised into laughing. "Aren't they? It's so weird!" I couldn't believe I was having this conversation with Ling, and that Ling had been the one to initiate it! I was surprised that I found someone who would so readily share my opinion on the female gender, too.

"I know! Like some sort of jellyfish!" Ling said animatedly. The halls were beginning to fill up with people again and I prayed I wouldn't have to see Ed again. But at least I wasn't alone, so he couldn't, I dunno, give me puppydog eyes or glare at me or shove me into a wall and -

Yeah. "Or an octopus," I agreed, oddly thinking of Vanessa again. Except Vanessa was actually a very squishy boy. And not human. "Like, if you get too close, the squishiness will suck you in."

"Beware the squishy!" Ling made tentacle motions with his arms in my direction. I slapped his hands away and laughed, nearly choking on my potsticker.

"No kidding," I said once I had managed to swallow it. And then a thought struck me, and I burst out laughing again. "We are _so_ gay."

"There are some less squishy girls," Ling said consideringly, and I hid a wince. Was he not gay, then? Had I just made some terrible social faux pas? I didn't know what to say, because in conversation, _fuck_ and _oops_ would generally not cut it. "But they tend to date other girls," he continued. "I don't know how they stand it, though. It would be like squishiness squared!"

I breathed a sigh of relief before imagining the first lesbian couple (or almost couple) that came to mind. "Hahahaha oh God, ew. Thanks a lot. Now I'm never going to look at Sloth and Rose the same way."

"Oh, _ew_!" Ling said, making a face and wrinkling his nose. He actually took a few steps back in disgust. "That's like squishiness _double_ squared!"

"It's going to happen," I assured him. "If Sloth gets her way, it will happen. Often." I was glad to find someone that shared my slight disgust at the idea of them hooking up - though I had never quite thought about it in terms of _squishy_ before. Ling had broken my brain, and now I would never look at the two of them in the same way again. (And it was true - I haven't been able to think of them or see them together since without hearing Ling's yell of _Squishy double squared!_)

"Ick, that'll be disgusting," Ling said. He looked almost as if he was going to throw up. "Too much boobs." He paused and took a few steps in silence before turning back to grin at me manically. "Aren't you glad they can't reproduce?"

I imagined the poor child. "Oh God, the kid would be like a boob monster. Boobzilla!"

"_Aah!_" Ling yelled, flailing his arms wildly. He almost hit a random chick in the face and I burst out laughing. "Run! It's _Boobzilla_!" He was getting strange looks from people the entire length of the hallway but he really didn't seem to notice, instead smiling at me.

Finally managing to contain my laughter, I smiled back at him, then looked around. "Ah, this is my classroom." I hoped Falman hadn't heard the yelling from outside - but he would probably ignore it anyway. Unlike, say, Rixie (I liked Ling's nickname). "I'll see you later though!"

As I entered the classroom Ling gave me a salute. "See you around!"

Roy was already in the classroom when I walked in, unable to hide my elated smile. He looked worried. "Oi, Envy, where were you at lunch? I didn't have much time to eat, I was looking for you!" He gave me a reproachful look.

I blinked. "Oh, shit, sorry! I was, I mean, I forgot to tell you that Sloth was supposed to take me for Chinese food." I gave him an apologetic smile. So apparently I had stood up _three_ people for lunch - Sloth, Ed, and now Roy. Go figure. "And, um, yeah, I'm _really_ sorry." A pause. "Hey, you know, Ling is really really cool!"

"Oh really?" Roy asked, nonplussed (I guess) at my sudden euphoria, the exact opposite of how I had behaved when I had seen him last. "What brought this on? You finally managed to have a conversation that lasted for more than two words?"

"Actually, it lasted the whole period," I told him brightly before clamping my mouth shut. Oops. I hadn't meant to say _that_ much.

Roy gave me a sharp look. "I thought you went to lunch with Sloth..." he said. "Or did Ling happen to go to the same Chinese restaurant? Because, you know, he's Asian?"

"Er... actually, no." I could have lied and said something like _Yes Roy, that's exactly what happened_, but I'd feel bad. I _do_ have a conscience, you know, and it's been honed by two and a half years of mandatory religious education, too! "Um, see, um, in the halls Ed came up to me and he, um, he was trying to talk to me but I didn't want to listen and so I ended up running away and never met up with Sloth either and ended up chatting with Ling. Yeah. Oh, look, the bell rang, class is starting!"

I received another skeptical look from Roy for changing the subject, but Falman got up and began the lesson and he didn't press. And he didn't bring it up again after Precalculus, for which I was grateful. And in AP Biology, I was able to meet Russell's wink with a grin of my own. He looked confused. Good, maybe that would send him running back to Ling.

My good mood hadn't evaporated by the time I slid into the passenger seat next to Sloth, who gave my smile a strange look. "Missed you at lunch today," she said conversationally.

"Yeah, sorry, I got distracted."

"Hmph," Sloth said skeptically, shooting me a knowing smile. "You know, I ended up taking out Ed Elric, instead. He seemed pretty broken up about something. Any idea what?"

I flinched, but replied with, "_Noo_ idea. Maybe it's _that_ time of month or something." It was my turn to give her a sharp-edged smile. "What makes you think it had anything to do with little old me?"

"Envy," Sloth said sharply, giving up all pretense. "You have to understand, he thought it was just the rumors that made you hate him."

I was tempted to continue feigning confusion, but Sloth's look was dangerous. And anyway, she was driving. I didn't want to end my life in some fiery wreck just because I had said something like _Rumors? What rumors?_ "Thought?" I asked instead. "I suppose you felt the need to tell him my life's history then."

She sighed. "You _know_ I'm doing this all for you."

"Tch." I snorted. "And _you_ know that if I _wanted_ to start something, I'd do it myself."

"It's not about what you _want_," Sloth said. "It's about what makes you _happy_." I rolled my eyes. "The whole Match-Up Gram thing got Ed to start thinking about you, and now that I've had a chat with him he knows what's going on in _your_ head too."

Great. The Match-Up had been traumatic enough, but now Sloth seemed determined to put me through _further_ trauma by treating Ed to a minute dissection of my thought processes. I'm sure everyone longs for a big sister like her. (And if you couldn't tell, that was sarcasm.) "So what, are you taking responsibility for the Match-Up Grams, too? And for Ling?"

"What about Ling?" Sloth asked curiously, neatly sidestepping the question about the quizzes and making me even more suspicious. "Did you finally realize you don't actually have a crush on him?"

"Yes, actually," I said tersely. "Happy?"

Sloth whistled. "How'd _that_ happen?" she asked with genuine curiosity.

I grinned out the window. "Magic."

And surprisingly, Sloth didn't question it.


	16. Chapter 16

AN indigo oceans

So, like, first I have an apology to make, because my author note for _last _chapter was meant to be the author note for this chapter (_my_ bad), and so it made no sense when taken in the context of last chapter. Last chapter I was supposed to write about how I liked roleplaying Sloth because she knows what's going on and she has (or acts like she has) everything under control, and that's always fun. So yeah, _this_ chapter is the one where I'm to blame for the scene with Ed and Envy. And I was Envy. And I'm proud of that. Heh.

Well, of course, last chapter I was Envy too, and I was half to blame for that scene, but... I like this one better. Ah, it was embarrassing when I realized I had written the note for the wrong chapter, after (of course) the chapter had been published. If any of you read that web comic _Axis Powers Hetalia_, I'm, like, feeling totally like Poland.

And since the vast majority of you probably don't, that reference made know sense and you are scratching your heads in confusion. I just can't win with you guys, can I...?

Chapter Potions For Foxes

**Stupid Cupid**

_(quit hitting on me)_

Chapter Sixteen

It wasn't until I had walked loudly into the house that I realized that Al was going to ambush me in a matter of minutes and that there was no way my mom wouldn't _know_ (in her special, psychic powers, ninja Mom way of hers) that something had gone horribly terribly wrong today. Fuck. Well, at least we'd already been through most of this in freshman year. This couldn't _possibly_ be any more mortifying and awful. After all, That Incident was pretty much _all my fault_, according to Winry, Mom, Al, Ling, Russell, Sloth, _and Envy_.

Envy _hates_ me.

Fuck this going to suck.

"ED!"

I winced.

"ED, GUESS WHAT!!!" Al crowed bounding out, arms outstretched. He saw my face and skidded to a halt. "Whoa! What happened to you?"

"You want to know, Al?" I asked him suddenly. He took a step back. I assumed I did not look particularly well balanced at that moment. "You really want to know?"

"Ah," Al said, working his way back into the kitchen. "Maybe?" he asked in a small voice.

"Ed quit menacing your brother—Oh sweetie," Mom said, taking one look at me as I slumped onto one of the stools. "What happened?"

"I asked Envy out," I said, looking at my hands.

"Oh?" Mom said. I don't think she thought she'd be confronted with my bisexuality this quickly. Oh well, she always _did _want to meet Envy. "What did he say?"

"Wait!" Al said suddenly. "Ed's gay?"

"I'M NOT GAY!" I yelled. Al shrugged.

"You say that but then you ask guys out," Al said staring at the ceiling. "What am I supposed to think?"

"I'm bi, numbskull," I muttered.

"Bipolar?" Al asked.

"Bisexual, dumbass—sumption. Right, because assuming I'm gay is a dumb assumption, Al," I said. Mom was glaring at me. She did not approve of swearing, especially at other people.

"Al, why don't you go up to your room and practice for your musical," Mom said, smiling sweetly. Al left quickly. He can recognize an order when he hears one. "Now, Ed, this is the same Envy—"

"Yes," I said.

"Oh," Mom said. "Want to tell me what happened this time?"

"I just asked him to go to lunch with me! That's all I did, I didn't think he was a girl this time either, I mean, I know he was a girl because of last time, so I'm obviously not going to make the same mistake again, but he said no," I said, I buried my head in my heads. I sniffed again. My eyes itched. I had allergies. That was all and maybe I was getting a cold, it was still cold season after all.

"Here's a tissue dear," Mom said handing me a Kleenex.

"I'm not crying," I mumbled, but took it anyways.

"What exactly happened?" Mom asked me. She pulled up a stool and sat down next to me. I sighed.

"I um, caught him in the halls and just asked him if he wanted to go out to get pizza or something, if he, you know, wanted something else to eat," I said. Mom raised her eyebrows. I sighed. "He—I guess he thought I was kidding or something."

"Why do you think he felt that way?" Mom asked. She rested her head on her hand.

"Because he said that," I muttered.

"And how did you react?"

"I told him I wasn't kidding," I said.

"How did Envy respond to that?" Mom asked.

"Err, well, I also grabbed his hand, which was pretty stupid," I said. I ran my fingers through my hair. "And he didn't—he was turning away, and I didn't think—which was stupid and then he told me not to touch him and, and then he just ran off."

"Oh," my mom said. "Any ideas why he might've done that."

"No," I muttered and folded my arms. "I have no idea why he'd do something like that. None at all."

"Well it sounds like you know perfectly why Envy did that," Mom snapped at me, rising to her feet.

"Do not," I muttered. It was just freshman year and Mom couldn't help with that. Not at all. That was my problem, but Envy wouldn't listen to me.

"Well perhaps you ought to think about it a little more," Mom said.

"I have homework," I said, and picked my backpack off the floor.

Unfortunately, I didn't have much homework. Just some Calculus stuff, but since I'd already done parts of it, it didn't take nearly as long as I thought it would. I could look up photographers in the area for Hughes, but Russell could do that and Ling probably had connections that knew where the best places were anyways.

Rix hadn't assigned any homework, just that test. There wasn't much in History. I'd finished German in the class. I was _ahead _in AP Chem thanks to the weekend studying with Roy.

I just couldn't believe it. I honesty didn't think that freshman year would've been that big of a deal. Aside from the rumors, but according to Sloth those hadn't really bothered Envy. I could see how I could convince Envy I wasn't so bad, if it had only been that. I, obviously, knew he was a guy, and well, asking him out in public, that showed I didn't care about rumors. I didn't give a damn what they say, what they think—

NO! I will not get the blasted song stuck in my head again!

Don't even think about the—no! Goddammit I won't. Not that song.

But now with what Sloth told me, that this was, at the core, some betrayal of trust. Well, how was I supposed to fix that? What could I possibly do to make it up to Envy? I didn't even know how I could begin. What could I do?

What was there to do? I mean, if I was Envy's first real friend, only friend in high school, if I made him realize he was gay, then reacted like that… I don't even know. The closest thing I can think of would be Al rejecting Fletcher, and Russell has admitted to me that if it hadn't been for Al, Fletcher would've … Russell doesn't elaborate, but I think we can safely say that Al is responsible for Fletcher handling the bullying as well as he did. And I didn't—Envy, oh man I fucked this up.

I don't know how long I lay on my bed thinking those thoughts, but eventually I fell asleep. I had to have because the next thing I knew I was in a dark dungeon and my house does not have one of those. I looked around, there's not much to see. I tried to walk away, but I couldn't. My wrists were tied, held by something. I shook them. Chains rattled. Oh shit.

"Ooh, this is fancy," Envy said walking into the room. Torches along the walls lit up the circular room. I didn't see any exits, any place Envy could've come from. He walked over to a table in the center of the room. On it was what looked like medieval torture instruments. Whips, chains, a flay, various metal and leather things, and—was that a key?

I stared at Envy. He's wearing a French maid costume, complete with high heels and stockings. I looked down at myself. Fuck. I was naked. I watched as Envy fingered the instruments, before clearing a place and jumping up on the table. This was actually kind of hot…

Envy swung his legs back and forth. He picked up a whip from the table and fingered it. I bit my lip. This was—this was really kinky and really, really hot. Envy could probably tell how hot I thought this was. Still, even that thought didn't do anything to make me…err less excited.

"So how'd you end up here?" Envy asked suddenly. His hands were still on the whip. I tried really hard not to stare. Was this how Envy felt when Ling played with his piercing?

"Uh, no idea," I said, once I stopped looking at the whip in Envy's hands and remembered what the question was. The cold metal of the chains pressed into my wrists as I leaned against my restraints. There was no give. Envy smirked at my actions and fingered his whip. Instead of blushing, I felt the blood rush somewhere else.

"You can't get out," Envy said, completely misunderstanding my intentions.

"Why don't you unchain me then?" I asked. As much as I was getting off on being tied up, I'd have liked a little more motion.

"Nope!" Envy says brightly, still swinging his legs. "That's not my job. And anyway, why should I?"

"Please," I asked. I fell against the chains again. The sudden jolt of pleasure I felt when the metal jerked tight surprised me. "It's a bit uncomfortable." I kicked my feet. They too were chained.

"Like I said, it's not my job." Envy let the whip uncoil so the tip was dragging on the floor. I gulped and eyed the black leather. He swished it back and forth. I imagined him hitting me with it. Or trailing it across my body…Shit he was talking.

"And I always do my job." He smiled coyly at me. I can't help but be turned on by this. I shook the chains on my wrists. I'm almost afraid to ask, but "What is your job?"

Envy leaned forward, resting his elbow on his thigh and putting his chin in his hand. He cracked the whip almost lazily with the other hand. My eyes widened. I swallowed quickly. If I drooled I couldn't wipe my mouth.

"What do you think?" Envy asked raising his eyebrow.

"Why don't you let me go," I said, smirking suddenly. "It'd be a lot more fun if I wasn't chained to a wall. You don't exactly have a great deal of room to maneuver." I shrugged. Envy frowned. He didn't look happy with my assumption.

"Oi, I don't know what you're thinking about," he said. "For what I'm going to do it's better if you can't move around much." He crossed his legs. He didn't look pleased with me.

"You're in a French Maid costume, I'm naked and bound up, this looks to me like some sort of S&M hardcore porno, what am I supposed to think?" I asked. There really wasn't much I _could _assume. What? That Envy was just dusting… though he could use the feather duster to… fuck he's talking.

"It's my uniform, I have to wear it, sorry," Envy said. He doesn't seem sorry at all. Neither am I, come to think of it. Though, maybe if the skirt was a little bit shorter…

He cocked his head to the side as if something had just occurred to him. "You like hardcore S&M porn?"

"You don't have to look so sexy in your uniform," I muttered. I looked away from Envy. The ceiling was glowing faintly and I couldn't see the top of it. "And what if I do like S&M, you're just playing right into my fantasies then. You can't hurt me, you'll only turn me on."

"No, I'd hurt you," Envy said, tapping his lower lip with the butt of the whip. "You'd just like it." He stood up and grinned. "Wanna try?"

"Sure," I said. My blood is pounding. I've never done this before, but… I grinned back at Envy. "Go ahead, do your worst."

"Then again," Envy said, striding across the floor until he's standing just out of my reach, which actually is pretty close. I leaned into the chains more. I jerked against them trying to get closer to Envy. "There are _other_ ways to torture someone."

"O-oh?" I said. I'm breathing harder. I fell against the chains again, but the metal doesn't give. Envy took a step closer. He leaned in. I could feel his breath on my cheek. If he would just...

Envy smirked and trailed a finger down my bare chest. "I'm sure you know what I'm talking about," he said in a throaty voice, gazing up at me from beneath his eyelashes. "Don't you?"

I gasped and my muscles spasmed at his touch. I leaned into his fingers as much as possible. The chains bit into my wrists and I just wished Envy would keep talking to me in that voice and my God he has the most perfect bedroom eyes.

"U-uh. Possibly?" I had this awful suspicion that Envy meant freshman year. In which case, Envy'll probably turn me on and then leave me with no way to _anything_ and, hell, he'll probably _watch_ me suffer.

Suddenly, Envy took a step back and slapped me across the face. I yelped. I wasn't excepting Envy to actually do anything. The stinging sensation faded, but I could definitely feel a mark forming.

"Wasn't what you were expecting, was it?" Envy said with a smile. "Don't worry, everyone knows what an awful pervert you are." He turned primly on his heel and walked back to the torture table, examining the instruments once more.

"You think I care what everyone else thinks?" I demanded. Why did Envy still think that that would change anything? I wanted this, I wanted _him_. "Do it again, Envy. You want to, don't you? You're getting off on this as much as I am."

"Excuse me," Envy said, sneering. "What do you think I am? This is a job. You don't get off on a job unless your one of those creepy workaholic-type people. Which I'm not. Watch your mouth or I'll gag you." He held up a strip of leather up. I eyed it. I didn't really want to be gagged.

"So, a whore doesn't get off on her customers? Never? Dominatrix don't like their job?" I asked, pretending I wasn't the least bit afraid. Not that the idea of being completely at Envy's mercy didn't excite me…I licked my lips. I knew Envy could see my tongue piercing now.

Envy's eyes widened and he removed his hand, taking a step back. "My _job_ is to get as much information out of you as possible," he spat out. "It's not my fault I'm wearing this." He gestured impatiently at his uniform. "Or that you're some kind of kinky masochist."

"Hey, I can't help that you play into my kinks," I said, shrugging. The chains rattled faintly. "I seem to play into yours, piercings and all. Hit me a couple times and I'll tell you what you want."

"If you want me to hit you then it's pointless," Envy said, frustrated. He seemed to realize how pointless it would be to torture a masochist. I'd just get off on it. That's something that I don't think the Bush Regime ever encountered.

"It's not if I tell you what you want," I said. I shrugged. "No response on the piercings? Or is it just lip rings? I could get one of those if you like."

"I'm _ignoring_ the piercings," Envy said with gritted teeth. I smirked. Glad to know he has to make an effort. "You're not making this easy."

"Where's the fun in that?" I asked smiling widely. I flicked my piercing against my teeth. It makes a _pinging _noise. Envy looked up, suddenly looking vulnerable and oddly adorable. Oh how I _hated _these chains right now. "By the way, you do you think I'd look with a lip ring? Or should I go with a Monroe piercing on my upper lip? Both? I can't decide

"Why should I care?" Envy said stiffly. I hoped I was getting to him. "Shut up or I'll gag you, really."

"Oh, Envy, that's even kinkier," I said and fluttered my eyelashes. Hopefully I'd make him mad enough to actually _do_ something. "Besides, you won't do that, you need me to tell you something, doncha, beautiful"

"Shut up," Envy said, turning and backhanding me across the face. I swung slightly in the chains. When I looked at him again, he was staring at me with an irate expression. I smiled.

"Keep doing that and I'll spill, Envy-love," I said. "I'll tell you everything."

"Shut up already," Envy said, pinning me by the throat with his forearms. He's a lot stronger than he looks and he's very close—our faces are really only inches away. I leaned up against as much as I could. I can almost touch him, but not quite.

"Why, Envy-love?" I asked, mockingly. "Thought you wanted to do your job right? Or maybe you do just want to get me off. You're doing a great _job_." I lunged forward suddenly and I managed to kiss Envy fully. I bit his lip and he gasped and he was about to pull away before my piercing touched his tongue and it was quiet.

It was quiet until Envy pulled away, laughing faintly. I sagged in the chains. What the fuck had I done wrong this time? This time because there had been times before when I screwed up everything between us. You think that I couldn't do that when _I _was the one who was chained up, but I guess I can manage the impossible.

"Envy-love?" And is it just me, or is Envy's voice not _that_ high? "That's not my name."

"What is it, then?" I asked. I wasn't in the mood for this. Something awful was about to happen and I had a feeling I didn't want to know. "What is your name, Envy-love?"

"Watch and find out, Edo," Envy said in his oddly high voice. _Edo_. He'd called me that all the time freshman year. It has to be him, it _has _to. Envy smiled at me and tossed his hair back. It was thicker, not as thin and not green. It was dark brown. And suddenly—

Suddenly, Envy fills out the French maid outfit. He more than fills it out. I heard seems popping at his chest grew to gigantic proportions. His waist narrowed. His hips were wide. And his face—it was Sloth.

I pulled away as far as I could. Where the fuck did Envy go? I'm just kissed—Oh EW! I spat out. This was disgusting. "I, you're Sloth. Where did Envy go?"

"Envy who?" Sloth asked, pressing up against me. I tried to writhe away but there wasn't anywhere to go.

"Get off," I said. I stop moving. All excitement has vanished. . "Envy Angeloff, your half-brother. Remember?"

"What half-brother?" Sloth asked. She twirled a lock of hair around her finger. I averted my face. I didn't want to see her. I wanted Envy. "There's only me and my friends." She pointed to the table. Good, at least she didn't hear voices in her head. "You were enjoying it earlier, why stop now?"

"Get off," I said, I looked down at her. I didn't want _her_. "I'm not enjoying it now. You're not Envy." I remembered something. "You don't _like _me. You want Rose remember? She's much more flexible than I, and she's probably more willing."

"Not with _chains_," Sloth said. Her voice is breathy. Oh God she can't be getting off on this. This is disgusting. "But if you want I can turn back to Envy. You'd like that wouldn't you?"

"God NO!" I shouted, flattening myself against the wall. "I want Envy. I don't want you. I don't want you looking like Envy. I want _Envy!_" I yanked at the chains. They're suddenly not as tight as before. Maybe I can get out of this mess and away from this harpy—and what if she's right? _What if Envy's gone?_ I don't think. I just… "I want _Envy_. I love him." The chains loosen further.

"That's all I needed to know," Sloth said. "No why don't you give me a kiss?"

"FUCK YOU!" I shouted. Her hand is on my shoulder and I tried to twist away but I can't move. I'm wrapped in chains now.

"Ed, Ed," Sloth said. She sounded worried. I wrench myself out of her grasp and fall—onto the floor? I hit the ground with a thud. I looked around, what just happened?

"Ed?" Al asked, looking at me. "Any reason you just asked me to 'Fuck you?' Just because _you're _bi doesn't mean _I'm_ into incest."

I slammed my head against the floor.

"Ow."

"Great, are you some sort of masochist too?" Al asked. He sneered at me. "Gross."

"Oh fuck off," I said. "You're my brother, stupid. And incest is—just wrong, Ew! I don't want to have sex with _you_ ever! Oh God that's vile Al. _Yuck!_" I made a horrified and disgusted face. Just the thought was enough to—oh ew. I think I threw up a little.

"Your face is going to freeze like that," Al said, but he offered me a hand up. I took it. He smirked at me. "I have no idea what you were dreaming about—don't tell me, I don't want to know. But dinner's ready!" He shouted and darted out of my room. I looked down at myself, half expecting some _evidence_ of the dream. Nothing. Well that was one good thing.

At dinner no one mentioned Envy. Mom was silent on that subject and mercifully Al didn't say anything. Instead, he just watched me as though the way I was eating my baked potato my reveal something. Of course, given the fact that I had just doodled a heart in the gravy with one of the last potato pieces, he might have a valid reason. Dad either didn't want to bring it up or didn't know. I hoped it was the later.

Al kept staring at me even after dinner ended and I was washing the dishes while he dried. I waited for him to say something but he didn't, he just peered at me. I handed him the large ceramic bowl to dry. Al took it. I went back to scrubbing out the pan that had the pork roast in it. Al said nothing. He wasn't even singing. Something was wrong.

How much did he hear? I wondered. He said he'd heard me yell FUCK YOU! But what if he'd been there longer, what if he'd heard other things. I tried to remember what I'd tried to tell Sloth. It was important that she understand whatever it was. I needed her to understand it so Envy could come back and she could go off and do things to Rose far away from Envy and I. Very far away from us. Because Envy was a turn _on_ as much as his half-sister was a turn _off_ and he'd looked so very, very good in that getup.

"So, you were saying something about Envy before you started yelling and thrashing," Al said conversationally. You'd have thought we were discussing the weather the way he spoke.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," I said. I gave up on the pan. I poured soap into it and let the water run. It could soak. I wanted to get out of the kitchen before Al started to interrogate me about the dream. "I'm going to go study."

"Yes," Al said, "Go study whatever you were studying. It must've been pretty boring since you fell _asleep_."

"I have to look up decent photography places for Student Government," I said and fled. Al's laughter followed me up the stairs. That was it; I was so going to tell Envy to tell Wrath where I lived. I paused. Aside from the fact that that wasn't possible since Envy and I weren't really on speaking terms.

_Stop it. Don't touch me_.

I closed my eyes tightly. _Those _were the last words he'd spoken to me. I bit my lip. I had a lot of work to do. But, but Sloth—regardless of how creepy and cruel and how could I have ever thought she was attractive—she'd said she thought I had a chance. I sighed, well that was better than nothing.

…

I woke up in the morning and thankfully didn't remember my dreams. The morning went by unusually fast. Calculus flew by. I nearly jumped out of my seat when the bell rang. Sloth gave me an odd look; I didn't stay around to hear what she had to say. I dodged away and hurried off to Government.

Government, despite the God awful combination of Russell's lecherous and smug glances, Ling's ever-present smile, and Hughes, went by quickly. Before I knew it, I was standing in front of the door to English. I sighed and walked in. I wasn't sure if I was glad Envy wasn't there yet or not. I sat down in my seat and just waited.

Finally, just when I start to seriously consider the fact that Envy might not _be_ here (Sloth might've just wanted to tell me that after Calculus) Envy and Roy rushed into English just as the bell rang. They seem to have gotten back together. I looked away, it's not like I'm jealous or anything, just—but wait, if Envy can forgive Roy for everything, he can forgive me, right?

Rix got up from his desk. He held a stack of papers in his hands. It was the test from yesterday. It had to be.

"There is only one person who got 100 percent in this class, one," Rix said. He doesn't look happy. He walked over to Envy's desk. I clenched my fists. He'd better not mock Envy's score. That would be crossing a line.

"Very good Angeloff," Rix said. I blinked in surprise. Wait—what? Envy looked as shocked as I was. I shouldn't be shocked. After all most of the AP dropouts happened with in the first three weeks. Envy's not stupid it's just that—Rix never has anything good to say about him.

"Elric," Rix said. He spun around to face me. He handed me my test. "You copied off of the wrong Angeloff." I flinched. My paper had so many red marks that it looked like it was bleeding to death. I looked at the grade in the corner. Below 50 percent. This was not good.

"Tringham. You're hopeless, you're really hopeless. Miss Rockbell, nice job. A 96, second highest score all day. Perhaps you could beat Tringham until he learns."

"Hey," Ling said, poking my shoulder. "Maybe Envy could help you study." I stared at him.

"Are you insane?" I hissed. "He hates me."

"You never know," Ling said, grinning at me. "You should ask him to help you. Might come off as less threatening. Tell him Rix told you to study with him. That should work."

"Maybe," I said. I considered the idea. It could work. Envy might think I'm just freaked out about my grade and it's no big deal. And, and it's a start. "I'll talk to him after class."

"Good man," Ling said. He grinned at me. "You got your no-see-um bead in today or what?"

"Oh fuck," I said.

"Might want to keep your tongue in your mouth then," Ling suggested. He smirked at me. "So you don't get caught or anything."

"Right," I said. I had the feeling there was something he wasn't telling me. But before I could ask, Rix started the lesson, which it turned out, was a complete review of the test. I forced myself to pay attention. Sure, Envy was prettier than grammar and there was the dream to consider. I tried to stop imagining Envy in the costume, I really did.

I kept my eyes focused on the board and tried to figure out what the fuck I'd been thinking when I took this test. I'd thought it was easy yesterday. I checked my answers so many times. I was sure that—what had I been _thinking?_ Envy, I'd been trying to keep my mind off of Envy. Well, it had worked… Only just not that way I'd hoped.

Oh God this was beyond stupid.


	17. Chapter 17

AN by Potions for Foxes:

This chapter is boss! It is awesome.

I think I might say that every chapter but this, this is good. I'm typing this with about 20 minutes to go before we leave to drop my brother off. So, family is yelling and stuff... Anyways, I love the chapter. It's excellent. Indy does a lovely job about characterizing Envy. It's incredibly well done. She, along with Diana Wynne Jones, Neil Gaiman, and Mercedes Lackey (sorry Indy), are among the few authors whose work I will re-read pathologically. I just call it "editing" ... Brilliant chapter and like That One Reviewer (who can still STFU) whined about, the plot actually moves. Sorta. Not in the direction that you expect. Envy finds out about Ed's piercings, he talks to Ed, and he, Roy and Ed all sit at a table together but they're not eating. Envy's extremely sarcastic and scathing. Ed's ... Ed's pretty funny (but he's not trying to be...) Enjoy!

Chapter by indigo's ocean:

**Stupid Cupid**

_(quit hitting on me)_

Chapter Sixteen

My ebullient mood lasted all the way into the next morning - well, really, until History, where I realized that English was next and though it was maybe okay _thinking_ about the possibility of, um, listening to Ed or even dating him, actually _doing_ something to make that slight possibility into a reality was a totally different ballgame. Ling had promised to tell me the location of Ed's piercings if I just talked to him, but...

Fuck. It was easier said than done.

I was dreading English so much (Ling would expect me to do something and I didn't know if I _could_) that I just followed Roy to his locker and didn't bug him we were going to be late. After History, if I don't nag him, he'll just meander to his locker and then back to English, and although our passing periods are five minutes, Roy's locker is far enough from both classes to make loitering highly impractical. I only realized we were running out of time when the hallways started emptying out.

"Shit, Roy!" I tugged his sleeve. "We've gotta get moving..."

Roy looked around. "Oh, geez," he said, shoving his English binder under his arm and slamming his locker shut. We sprinted through the hallways to Rix's class, and I made a silent promise to myself - _I don't care_. If I happened to work up the guts to talk to Ed, well, good. And if I didn't... I could always try to catch him at lunch or after school or some other time when Ling could see and satiate my curiosity. Good. Now that _that _was taken care of...

I lengthened my stride and passed Roy, turning it into a sort of race that had no winner - we both arrived at the doorway to English at roughly the same time, piling in just as the bell rang and scrambling to our seats. "_Score_!" I told him breathlessly as we sat and Rix stood up.

Roy winked at me and we exchanged a high five.

Rix, on the other hand, didn't look happy at all. He was holding a stack of papers - probably the test from yesterday, or else it would have to be those essays we wrote the first week of school and never got back, and I was pretty sure they had been lost to the depths of Rix's briefcase. Or desk. Or compost heap. Wherever. "There is only one person who got one hundred percent in this class," he said, shaking the papers. "_One_."

I rolled my eyes. Probably Ed fucking Elric - but wait, I wasn't allowing myself to use that nickname any more. Okay, the highest score in the class was probably _Ed_. It usually was. I propped my chin on my hand and feigned boredom when Rix sauntered over to me. Shit, didn't he always start with the lowest grade?

"Very good, Angeloff." The test was slapped down on my desk, face-up so I could see the grade right away. It was... I had gotten a perfect score. And I had guessed on at least a third (they were _educated _guesses, but still...) and I had only been half paying attention...

Rix turned on his heel to face Ed. "Elric. You copied off the wrong Angeloff." I caught a glimpse of Ed's paper and winced sympathetically. It was covered in red. "Tringham. You're hopeless, you're really hopeless. Miss Rockbell, nice job. A ninety-six, second highest score all day." Then he turned to Roy. "Mustang, you might want to try listening to Angeloff more."

When Roy received his paper, he groaned too. I peered over his shoulder. "A seventy-five. That's not too bad!"

He gave me a baleful look. "Yeah, coming from Mr. Hundred Percent..."

"A fluke," I said confidently. "Trust me. I have no idea about, like, half of these."

I was pretty sure he was making a joke when he looked back at his paper and said, "Yeah. Neither do I, apparently." But I didn't get a chance to ask because right then Rix started the lesson, and he looked so angry that I was afraid to ignore him.

After class I didn't want to bring up the test grades either - I mean, seriously, was it _that_ big of a deal? No. And it's not like Daddy-Pride would make a big deal over it. Well, he might. But I wasn't planning to show him. So Roy and I exited English in a companionable silence. The weather was surprisingly sunny and warm for mid-February, and I was glad that I had only worm a sweater over my uniform, nothing ostentatious like the clothes Sloth liked to dress me in.

The warm weather was a good sign. Or so I thought, until Roy nudged me and asked, "So, _really,_ what happened between you and Ed?"

I shrugged and sighed. "He tried ask me to lunch," I replied. "Well, actually, it was more like he was chasing me through the halls and I was ignoring him until..." I felt my face turn red but I couldn't go back now. "Until he used the nickname he had for me in freshman year." I coughed embarrassedly. Hopefully Roy wouldn't push it.

Of course, _hope_ doesn't stand for much in real life. "So what was the nickname?" Roy pried curiously.

I blushed even more. There was nothing, short of a miracle, that would convince him to give it up now. And I couldn't think of any good nicknames, other than the stupid shit Wrath liked to call me - and that was _way_ to embarrassing. (En-en, Vivi, _Neevy_... Yeah, let's not go there, okay?) "It was... it was..." I looked away and muttered the last word. "_Sunshine_."

Roy burst out laughing. "Seriously?" he said incredulously. "_Seriously_?"

What an ass. I shoved him. "Shut up! It's nothing, okay?"

He staggered a step and then righted himself, shoving me back. Normally, it would've been fine, but just then I was in the middle of taking a step and already weighed down on one side by my heavy book bag. I went down like a pile of rocks, landing (surprise surprise) in a pile of rocks. Or, rather, in the gravel to the side of the walkway.

"Geez, aggressive much?" I asked Roy, laughing and beginning to clamber to my feet.

Suddenly, out of fucking _nowhere_, Ed _fucking_ Elric (and here I can use that nickname, because... _seriously_, you'll see) ran up and slammed his fist into Roy's face. I think Roy was more surprised than I was - he reeled backward, hand to his jaw, and gave Ed the nastiest glare I have ever seen him give _anyone_.

"What the FUCK?! What the _hell _do you think you're doing?"

I left my book bag on the ground and got to my feet as fast as I could, scrambling forward to grab the back of Ed's shirt, gritting my teeth with the effort of holding him back. He acted like he was ready to pound Roy's face into the ground or something - his test grade in Rix's class must've turned him into some sort of fucking _psycho_.

Roy regained his balance and was coming at Ed, fist raised to punch. I stepped in front of him and shoved Roy's hand aside. "_Stop_ it!" My voice was nearly a screech. What the fuck is up with these kinds of macho men fights, anyway? It's not like taking the high road and walking away proves you have a smaller dick or something - though I'm probably being a little hypocritical; if Ed had punched _me_ he would be on the ground by now.

Maybe.

"Why are you protecting the midget?" Roy taunted. I would've rolled my eyes - _seriously_, Roy? - but Ed shoved me aside in his rush forward to tackle Roy.

"DON'T CALL ME SHORT!" he shouted at the top of his lungs. "I'M NOT SHORT! DON'T CALL ME A PIPSQUEAK! I'M NOT SMALL!"

They hit the ground in a tangled jumble of limbs. "You _dumbass_!" I shouted at Ed. I was tempted to try to pull them off each other, but that would've ended with more bruises (and more pain) than I would've liked. So instead, I waded in and aimed a few indiscriminate kicks into the fight, feeling one connect to someone's ribs with satisfaction. Hopefully I had hit Ed.

"You fucking numbskulls!" I shouted, catching a glimpse of Ed's braid. He was still on top of Roy - shorty had dominance issues, maybe? Whatever. I grabbed it and yanked his head up.

Ed yelped and looked up at me guiltily. Good. Looked like he had snapped out of whatever animal rage mode he had been in. But Roy, ever the _gentleman_, wasn't finished. He took advantage of Ed's distraction to get in a final punch, so I kicked him in the side. He gave me a reproachful look.

Idiots.

"Well, well, _well_, what do we have here?" someone said, and I whirled around, dropping Ed's hair. Rix was approaching, his arms crossed over his chest and an absurdly pleased look on his face. "You three weren't fighting in my corridor, were you?" His eyes stayed locked on mine when he spoke, and I suddenly realized the position I was in - standing over both Ed and Roy, who were on the ground. And I had gotten in the last hits, meaning _I_ was pretty much the winner of the fight, meaning I...

I was in _deep shit_.

"Oh shit," I heard Roy whisper. I would've agreed if I had been able to find my voice. Rix would never let us - _me_ - forget this.

Another teacher was walking toward us down the corridor. She had honey blonde hair and solemn dark eyes and I was hoping that she'd go easy on us... until she opened her mouth. "Actually, Kurt, this isn't your hallway, and seeing as your class and hence, jurisdiction over these students ended several minutes ago, why don't you go back to your room and prep for the next class?" Her voice was icy cold and brooked no argument. I clenched my hands into fists in my pockets. Rix, I could have handled, but now a Very Scary Woman was telling him (and politely, too!) to fuck off. And I didn't even know who she was.

As Rix grumbled and tried to think of some excuse, the woman turned to us. "Come with me," she said flatly. She didn't even sound angry. I shivered. "I'll escort you to the office and _they_, not some rogue English teacher, will deal with you." She shot Rix another icy glance and he slunk away.

I glanced at Roy as Scary Woman turned and began to walk in the direction of the office. He shrugged, and I held out a hand to help him up. I wasn't _terribly_ mad at him - he didn't randomly run up to someone and punch them in the fucking _face_, so he could be forgiven a little more easily. Still... "You're such a fucking dumbass."

Roy gave me a lopsided grin - his lip was already swelling - and let me help him to his feet. I let go of his hand only to nearly run into Ed, who was standing uncomfortably close. "Hey," he said softly. I tensed, but I didn't let myself flinch away. "We should probably follow Hawkeye, she doesn't like to wait." After a minute when I forced myself to stand still as a rock, he placed a hand on my shoulder. I like my personal space. I do _not_ like it being invaded without my permission. But I had made a promise to Ling, and I intended to _keep_ it.

(It did occur to me that letting Ed touch me wasn't exactly part of our bargain, but pushed that thought aside. It made sense, I mean, what else was I supposed to do? _Right_?)

Ling had wanted me to _talk_ things out. So I would. "Don't touch me," I told Ed. Calmly. "You're an even bigger idiot than that one." I gestured at Roy. But I didn't slap him away or anything, just followed Hawkeye or whoever and let his arm drop of its own accord. And I made sure not to sound _too_ pissed, so... that was something. I guess.

"Oh, okay," Ed replied, and I couldn't tell whether he was disappointed or not. Not that it, you know, mattered.

Scary Woman Hawkeye's stride was long and measured and it took me a while to catch up with her. Ed and Roy were behind me, and I could hear snatches of their angry, muttered conversation, but didn't pay much attention. As long as they weren't pounding each other's brains out on the pavement, it was cool. Eventually Ed sped up to walk next to me, and I raised an eyebrow. But the only thing I could think to ask was if Ed had finished his little catfight with Roy, and... I'm pretty sure that wasn't what Ling had in mind when he told me to talk to Ed.

Apparently Ed couldn't think of anything to say, either. I watched him a moment longer, giving him a _clear_ opportunity - and also taking a look at the redness around his eye. If that didn't turn into a bruise I'd be surprised.

We made it to the office building in silence. Scary Woman Hawkeye took us the nurse's office - well, really, it was more like an extension of the office, with a circular table surrounded by five chairs. 'The fight room', it was called; I had seen it (and its occasional occupants) from the nurse's office but never had the pleasure to make use of it.

Riza watched us take our seats in silence, and then turned to leave. "Here, the nurse should probably look over the three of you. I will go inform the vice principal and he will call your parents."

"Well, I'm in deep shit," I said with feigned cheerfulness. Ed had sat to one side of me and Roy the other, so I was stuck in between two feuding males who were sending periodic death glares at each other. At least they seemed to have gotten out most of their aggression when they were actually fighting. Still, the testosterone was crushing me. No one said anything, so I nodded at Roy. "As are you." Or I didn't know Mr. and Mrs. Mustang at all. After a grudging pause, I turned to Ed. "How about you, fuckwit?"

"I think my tongue is starting to swell," Ed said, giving Roy a meaningful glance. A meaningful, _non_-threatening glance. Wow, progress! I mean, it was meant to be guilt-inducing, but it didn't mean something like, you know, _I'm gonna bash your head into the ground next time we're alone_. I raised an eyebrow at him.

Roy spread his hands innocently. "You were the one that randomly tackled me," he said.

"Shut up," Ed muttered. Now he was staring moodily at the table, not at Roy. Or me. More progress!

But no one appeared to have anything else to say, and I _hate_ awkward silences. Besides, I was curious why Ed's tongue would be swelling in the first place. "Bite your tongue or something?" I asked after a moment.

"I think it was more that _Roy_ hit my mouth," Ed grumbled - and did I detect a note of sarcasm? "But yeah, shit, what if it swells..." He looked genuinely nervous. I didn't much see the big deal - I mean, Ed's fucking _face_ was swelling too, and he wasn't whining about that.

"_What_ if it swells?"

"I won't be able to change the barbell out. I still have the metal one in from this weekend." Ed smiled at me and I glared. Both he and Roy had annoyingly smug looks on their faces. I _hate_ being left out of some private joke - and, really, getting along now were we? Tch.

I don't have much patience, either. "What are you talking about?" Roy's smirk grew. _Great_.

"My tongue piercing," Ed said with way more smugness than a statement like that warranted. "Wanna see?"

"Um," I replied eloquently. So that's what Ling had been talking about when he said kissing Ed... kissing... I was _not_ imagining Ed kissing me. With tongue. Nope. "Um." I tried hard to appear nonchalant. "Sure, since you seem determined to show it off anyway."

Ed grinned wider and stuck out his tongue at me. I blinked at it a moment before he shut his mouth. "So, what do you think?" he asked. "I mean, it's not as visible as Ling's, but..."

I couldn't stop myself from blushing, so I looked away quickly. "What am I supposed to think?"

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Roy cover his mouth to hide a snort. _So_ not helping.

"I have another," Ed continued, leaning back in his chair. He was totally relaxed, totally in control - the bastard was _enjoying_ this. I gritted my teeth. "It's under my shirt."

I was half expecting him to say something like '_It's in my pants_', and when he didn't I was relieved. That ruled out one of my, er, one of my more insidious guesses. Still, under his shirt... A nipple piercing, then? Because if he were shirtless... and it was _there_... and... God, that would be...

"Oh really?" I asked shakily. Roy was out of reach so I wasn't able to elbow him and make him stop his choked back laughter.

Ed shrugged. "Yeah, it's kind of stupid, but... some people like it."

He wanted me to ask where it was, so he could make a big show of it. I could _see_ it, I just _knew_ - but no one could accuse me of being easy. (On the other hand, a great many people have told me I'm rather paranoid.) Well, maybe I was easy for Russell, but we were both drunk that time so it _doesn't count_. "Oh, that's nice." And I wasn't as curious as I could have been - after all, I could just catch Ling sometime tomorrow and he'd tell me.

"Sure you don't want to see it?" Ed asked, clicking his piercing against his teeth and scooting his chair closer to mine. It made an awful screeching noise against the linoleum floor. I nearly winced - I'm sure if he could, he would've been wiggling his eyebrows at me suggestively, too.

I forced myself to remain in place. "Not now, thanks," I said nonchalantly. Ling would tell me. That was the only thing keeping my curiosity from getting the best of me. And then, instead of shoving Ed off his chair and starting _another_ fight, I took Ling's advice. _Talk_. "I happen to enjoy my personal space." _And subtle flirting_, I added, but didn't say that. I was being blunt enough already; hopefully Ed would get it.

He didn't. Or if he did, he just chose to ignore me, and stayed in place. At least he didn't scoot closer. "Yeah, it _is_ a bit girly, but lately I've been thinking, maybe I'd just get the nipple ring and not tell Mom." He grinned at me conspiratorially and I resisted the urge to roll my eyes while scratching out another piercing possibility. Not a nipple ring, not a, a _dick_ ring or anything like that. Which left...

But no, that was _way_ to girly. I thought so, at least, but where else could a piercing hide under his shirt? It wasn't that big of a deal though; Ling would tell me.

"You ever considered piercings, Roy?" Ed continued.

Roy, who had been watching the two of us like a movie, smirked. "Once or twice," he said, and I remembered him teasing me that he'd get a lip ring so I would have something else to stare at during English, "but girls consider me sexy enough I don't need 'em." Ooh, inflating his own ego _and_ insulting Ed's masculinity. It reminded me why I liked Roy and I didn't like Ed so close. I pointedly scooted my chair a few feet away. Really, enough was enough.

Ed didn't follow me, thank God. If he did we would have turned it into a bizarre version of musical chairs. Chair tag? Whatever. "Envy, have you ever considered piercings at all?"

"Yeah," I said shortly. Didn't want to get into the whole lip ring-and-infection thing, though the nurse's office was probably the appropriate setting.

"Oh?" For some reason, Ed looked surprised. Dunno what was so shocking. "You have?"

At that moment - at least _someone_ at this school had good timing - the nurse entered, so I was spared from answering any more questions. Ms. Ross didn't like me very much, and I had no idea why. Well, that wasn't _quite_ true; maybe it had something to do with that one time in sophomore year, with drug testing and Hughes and Lust... But why let a little thing like that get in the way of a lovely relationship?

"You've certainly been at each other," she tsk-ed. She looked at Ed first. Bet she has a thing for blondes. "You'll need to get an icepack before your eye swells shut and, oh, your lip is split. There's not much to do about that besides clean your face, young man." She turned to me with a look of distaste. "_You_ seem to be fine." I was tempted to flip her off, but before I had a chance she turned to peer at Roy, who peered back just as avidly. Oh, _please_. Save us from horny high schoolers with a thing for older women. "And you need an icepack as well."

She hurried back into the actual nurse's office and returned holding three of those radioactive blue instant icepacks, tossing one to Roy and handing the other two to Ed. "The principal has called your parents but he was only able to get ahold of Mr. Mustang's." I saw Roy smirk at the title. "We'll just wait and see on the others."

And then she left. I made a face - I mean, _seriously_? Did she hate me so much that she refused to stick around to flirt with Ed or be flirted with by Roy? Was there something _that_ urgent in the nurse's office? Her game of Tetris, maybe? Another awkward silence was beginning, so I decided to voice my thoughts. "She left? Just like that? I want an icepack too; you idiots are giving me a headache."

I was ignored - damn - but a few seconds later Ed, with a troubled expression on his face, said, "Shit, I think my tongue is swelling." He made a few faces - I assumed he was moving it around to check - before turning to me. "Envy, could you tell me if it's swelling?" And in a gesture beloved of five year olds and younger (but used for a completely different purpose right now) he stuck his tongue out at me.

Hastily, I turned away, staring out the small window a little to the left of Roy's head. It was a _very_ nice day outside. "I don't think I'm qualified to answer." Which was true. "Maybe you should call the nurse over." She'd love to orally inspect you - but I bit my tongue before I was too tempted to say that, and loudly so Ross would hear.

"I can't. If I get in trouble for piercings _and_ a fight, Mom will kill me. And make me get rid of them. So can you please look?" Ed whined. Well, damn, wasn't someone persistent?

"Have Roy look," I told him brusquely. _I'm sure he'd love to play doctor_ - ah, my mouth seemed determined to get me into trouble. I clamped it shut and focused on the view from the window, not that I could see much. The sun was streaming inside, making the room way to bright and too hot at the same time.

Roy held up his hands in that quintessential 'don't look at me' gesture. "No way. He's the reason I'm in here; I'm not checking."

I huffed and gritted my teeth, deciding it would be best to get this over with as soon as possible. "Fine. I'll fucking play dentist. Open your mouth." Fuck, that slipped out. I bit the inside of my lip, trying not to blush, as I saw Ed give try to stifle a grin.

"Just for you," he said, and I nearly gagged. That was... sweet like ten tons of corn syrup - which meant it was more completely disgusting than anything. He opened his mouth.

It was hard to see anything in Ed's mouth except the shiny metal of his piercing, which glinted in the sunlight from the window. I looked a little closer - I was honestly checking for swelling, really, I swear. And trying to get this over with as fast as possible without appearing like a total jerk. But I tried not to get too close, because then Ed might bite me, or, or something, because that would be bad. And... his piercing was so obvious. I bet it had hurt a lot to get. Shit, I couldn't imagine getting _my_ tongue pierced...

But then I realized what should've occurred to me five minutes earlier - I had absolutely no idea what Ed's tongue looked like in the first place. And I was probably already blushing. If Ed kissed me - _with tongue!_ - it would be... it would... "I can't see anything," I said quickly, turning back to stare out the window - and wasn't it just a _gorgeous_ day? Lovely weather, isn't it?

"Hey, thanks," Ed said easily. I resisted the urge to glare. Or hit him. "I appreciate it." And he put a hand on my shoulder - _excuse_ me, personal space, what the fuck was his problem, did he think that was flirting, and it was getting harder and harder not to smack him. Maybe that'd knock some sense into him. I couldn't stop myself from stiffening my shoulder - and I hoped he'd get the message, _seriously_.

Ed was... _is_ a really, really bad flirt. "Yeah, well, I could be wrong," I told him stiffly. "It'd probably be better to stick out your tongue at a mirror or something." And, shit, my comebacks were failing! My _comebacks_! My wit! Ed... Ed's tongue piercing ate my brain!

"Well, well, _well_," someone chuckled from the doorway. Creeper. "It seems to me the boys are getting along just fine." Oops, not a creeper. Just Mr. Mustang, here to (hopefully) save us from the clutches of doom and hostile school nurses. Ed removed his hand from my shoulder. _Thank you, Leo_. "I don't think the boys need much of a punishment. I can understand why you don't want them to stay at school for the rest of the day, though." He paused to look us over, then turned back to Mister Principal. "It seems that Ed and Roy have done a number on each other."

"You can say that again," I muttered at my feet. Idiots.

"And you say Envy was the one that pulled them apart?" he continued, glancing at me. I hid a grin. "If you'd like, I can drop all three boys off at home. They're friends of my son." He clapped M-Pal (that's Mister Principal's gangsta name, don't you know it) on the back. "Fred, it's been ages since you've come over for dinner! How about this weekend? Marie is going to make her apple pie."

I hid a giggle with my hand. Roy looked slightly mortified - he never told me he had M-Pal coming to his _house_! When they exited the room (probably bonding over the best apple pie in the universe!), he gave a sigh of relief. "Geez, he's never been that cool with this kind of shit..."

Who, Leo? I grinned at Roy. "Must be my inborn charm." And if I was trying to get Ed jealous by flirting a little with Roy... Well, so?

"Yeah right," Ed snapped, and I felt a flicker of satisfaction. It worked! "Maybe he's waiting to scream at you in the privacy of your own home. You have no idea how many times my mom has pulled that 'Oh it's fine' card in public before spending hours lecturing Al and I when we get home." Er... maybe it worked a little _too_ well. Ed was giving Roy a glare like he wanted to jump him. Again.

Roy looked slightly stunned. Poor heterosexual man, used as a pawn in the machinations of a fa- of, uh, me. "What's gotten up your ass?" he asked snarkily, giving me a pointed glance. I rolled my eyes. Straight Boy bites back, does he?

"_Nothing_ has gotten up my ass, Roy," Ed snapped, and I bit back any virgin jokes I was thinking of making.

"Oh really? That's not what you're acting like," Roy retorted. His glare nearly matched Ed's now. I tilted my chair back, stretched out my legs, examined my nails. Okay, so maybe pitting them against each other wasn't such a good idea. This was turning out to be a repeat of the fight. Only - heh - at least they were _talking it out_.

Ed's glare darkened. "How would you know what someone with something up their ass acts? Didn't think that was your _thing_, Roy." Ooh, a gay joke. Wasn't that a bit hypocritical, considering who was just flirting (badly) with me so earnestly a few minutes ago? Boring...

"Just guessing," Roy said. "That's how En- That's how Rix acts every day." Nice recovery, hotshot. I crossed my legs and tapped my fingers against the table, practically squirming from the overload of anger and testosterone and stupid fucking manly urges. Watching this was worse than pro-wrestling on TV - at least then you could change the channel. Boooring....

"Rix is married to Hawkeye's sister, dumbass. I doubt he's a good reference." Then again, you never knew. Maybe she made a habit of shoving -

Um. But anyway, I was surprised as Roy was. "Hawkeye's sister?! That's bullshit! He's way too-"

No matter how much I agreed with him, Roy looked like he wanted to pound Ed's face in reaction to the news. This was spiraling slowly out of control, Ed and Roy's complete attention was on each other, and I was getting ignored. Ignored! Not even fought over like some kind of chew toy! Fuck this shit. (Okay, and once again, let me remind you that Dante knew what she was talking about when she picked our names.)

I cleared my throat and glared at them both. "Will you two please _shut up_ and stop acting like a married couple? I don't know if you're flirting or continuing Ed's stupid fight and I don't _care_. You're both fucking obnoxious. Shut up." They obeyed and, thusly satisfied, I crossed my arms over my chest and tried not to look too smug.

"He started it," Ed said after a moment, pointing at Roy.

I opened my mouth to yell at him or bite his head off or maybe both, who knows, but right then Mr. Mustang and M-Pal reentered the room. "It's always good to see you, Leo," M-Pal was saying. "Don't worry about the boys, they can email their teachers or something. Besides, they must be punished."

Mr. Mustang brushed that off with a "Right you are, Fred." He turned to us. "Now let's go, or do you have anything important in your lockers?"

Roy shook his head. Normally I would've done the same but I was feeling nice. After all, Leo was saving my butt from the fight room and getting stared at by Ed and possible hostilities with the Rossinator. I smiled at him. "No, Mr. Mustang. Thanks for picking us up."

"Yeah, er, thanks," Ed said awkwardly, copying my smile. Asshole. "I don't have anything in my locker either."

"Well, shall we?" Mr. Mustang asked. He opened the door and the three of us gathered up our backpacks and followed him out. I would've grinned at Mrs. Ross but she had her back turned and was stiffly looking at her computer monitor. Surprisingly, she wasn't playing Tetris. I think it was Minesweeper.

When we stepped out into the courtyard, heading towards the parking lot, the magnitude of my situation hit me. I was about to get dropped off at home, and if... Aw, hell. I caught up to Roy. "I'm so fucking screwed if Pride comes home and I'm already there," I muttered to him. I'd probably get grounded - which wasn't bad, but then he and Russian Wife (_especially_ Russian Wife) would give me these disapproving looks like, if I were a _legitimate_ child this wouldn't have happened, and... urgh, it was fucking annoying. "Even though -" I could probably delete the message, but... "Oh, fuck, no, _Greed's_ at home and there's no way I can bribe him into keeping his mouth shut without... Uh, without doing things I'd rather not."

Roy gave me a strange look but I wasn't about to elaborate. Mostly because I didn't want to think what Greed might force me to do. Believe me, dishwashing duty was the least of my worries... I shuddered.

Suddenly Ed said loudly, "Uh, Mr. Mustang? Could you possibly drop Envy off with me? He promised to go over the English test with me because he got a hundred percent and I, um... kinda failed it."

My first thought: _I did no such thing!_ I whirled around to look at Ed, who was walking behind us next to Leo. My face probably said it all - wide-eyed, surprised, horrified, not sure what to think, et cetera, but Mr. Mustang, being the innocent Mormon he is, didn't find anything amiss.

Fuck. I looked quickly at Roy, who shrugged. The look in his eyes said it was better to hang out with Ed than Greed. Which was true...

"Nice job, Envy," Mr. Mustang said, looking proud. I don't think I blushed. I hope not. Sure felt like it, though. "Sure thing, Ed," he continued. "I was never much good at grammar myself. I had this awful teacher, she was ancient and had this squeaky voice. Ugh. Didn't learn a thing from her."

He winked at me. "Um, thanks," I replied, trying (and failing, probably) not to look _too_ pleased. I gave Ed an uncertain glance, and he smiled back at me. I wasn't sure what he was trying to do. Besides, you know, get me into his house. With him. Alone.

Shit.

The drive home was made even more awkward by my awareness of imminent doom. Or at least, imminent forced contact with Ed for at least three hours (until school got out and Sloth could pick me up), which was _way_ more than I had bargained for when I had made that agreement with Ling. I stared out the window and tried to pretend it wasn't a big deal. Which, I mean, it really wasn't. It was just a study - a study _thing_, and I could make Ed back off if I needed to.

But at the same time, it _was_ a big deal. It was a really big deal, and I was... um, really nervous.

And to top that, Mr. Mustang listened to country music. So for the duration of the ride, I got to hear about someone's son dying, and about beer. Lots of beer. And Roy kept trying to catch my eye apologetically. Poor guy, he _hates_ country. I was surprised he didn't try and change the station at least once - but I guess he has to respect someone's boundaries.

So, yeah, not fun. But I would have rather stayed in the car with Leo and Roy. Just because they were... comfortable, I guess, and I could talk to them and wouldn't have to worry. And plus, all that crap in freshman year wasn't hanging between us. (Especially not, you know, Roy's dad, because that would be... awkward.)

Still, I had no choice, so I thanked Mr. Mustang, stepped out on to the sidewalk, and waved at Roy as they drove off. _Shit_.

I joined Ed at his front door after taking a cursory look at the house. It was pretty nice; bigger than Roy's and pretty in an odd, forest cottage sort of way. Homey.

"Here, I have a key somewhere," Ed muttered. I kept both hands on the strap of my shoulder bag (_no_, I was _not_ clinging to it like some kind of security blanket, honestly). Finally, he found it. "Got it!" he said triumphantly and unlocked the door, ushering me inside.

The inside of Ed's house was homey and comfortable looking, too. I wondered if I should take my shoes off, even if the floor was wood and it probably didn't matter... I was used to taking my shoes off in the entryway at my house. But Ed kept his shoes on and led me into a small foyer room, heading towards the stairs. I looked around as I followed him slowly. His house was really nice - though not nearly as big as Daddy-Pride's, which wasn't surprising. I lived in a house that was practically a fucking mansion.

And the Elric house smelled nice, too, like a cinnamon-y air freshener was hidden somewhere and spreading a warm smell throughout the house. Or maybe that was the legacy of home cooking - who knows? As I lagged behind Ed, I realized it was my first time visiting Ed's house. I hadn't even gone there in freshman year, back when we were all... yeah. Weird.

"Er," Ed began, stopping at the stairs. I blinked at him. "Do you want something to drink or should we go up to my room?"

"Um, no, I'm not thirsty," I said, wondering exactly why we needed to go up to Ed's room. Couldn't we just... stay in the kitchen or something? Downstairs? But it was Ed's house, so... fine.

Ed laughed nervously. "Okay, it's just up the stairs, sorry about the climb, third floor and all..." He was babbling, and he probably knew it.

"Um, no worries," I replied, still clinging to my bag. I was nervous, and I _definitely_ knew it. I waited for him to lead the way. Did _not_ really want to be here at the moment... If I were to be in a situation like this with Ed ('situation' meaning we were talking, being civil, I was making an effort to open up a little) I would have preferred it to be on neutral ground. Like at school, or, or even at Manny's, though after Saturday I wasn't sure how the owners would like that. This was Ed's house, Ed's territory, and so I was off balance even if he didn't try to start anything.

He grinned at me - _damn_ his confidence - and bounded up the stairs, waiting for me at the landing like some kind of dog. Probably a golden retriever. I don't know much about animals. I followed him slowly, recalling why I had gladly taken the room in the basement. Though that had stairs too, just... not as many.

"Oh, and yeah," Ed began, when we were halfway down the hallway and I was silently freaking out about leaving shoeprints in the carpet. "I have some chocolates in my room that you might like."

I gave him a strange look. Chocolates. That I would like. That I would specifically like, meaning... what the hell. "Um..." Suddenly I knew how Hansel and Gretel felt, being lured into the witch's candy house. "Um, good?"

"Yeah, it turns out I misread Al's handwriting, big surprise, and Mom likes peanut butter chocolates, not raspberry, so I have two bags of the raspberry ones," Ed said, opening the door. I had _no_ idea what he was talking about - oh, wait. Chocolates, mom... maybe it had something to do with our chance meeting Friday night, when he had been buying a Valentine's Day present for his mother. Oh yeah, now I remembered - he had taken the _last two_ bags of the raspberry Ghirardelli chocolates. _Bastard_.

And he still had those. And he knew I liked them - was it a guess? Did Sloth have something to do with this? But she couldn't have foreseen this happening... could she? I didn't contemplate that question too much, not really wanting to break my brain.

Ed started running as soon as he got through the door, leaping onto the bed in some sort of strange, probably athletic pose. I blinked and stopped on the threshold, looking around as Ed rummaged behind his bed for the package of chocolates (weird). The floor was surprisingly clean - I had expected clutter or something, but the only things in evidence were a stack of books and a hamper by the door - and the room was also surprisingly large. I think Ed's bedroom and assorted areas took up the majority of the third floor.

And he had books, lots of them; his bookcases were full of them and he had even started to double up some of the shelves, putting two rows of books instead of one. I wondered where he had gotten them and how much they had all cost... and if he had read them all. Though knowing Ed, he probably had.

And, and... there was a Shins poster above his desk. So he still liked them...

"Want some?" Ed asked, holding out the pink and gold package of chocolates.

"Um, yeah..." I took a step forward and actually entered his bedroom, wondering where all my comebacks had gone. "I guess." I stopped before walking any further, looking around again. The room clearly showed Ed's love of track and all things athletic. Posters of athletes covered the wall - don't ask me to tell you who; I had no idea. They could've been underwear models for all I knew. But they were all in sports scenes and looked pretty ripped, so... The only one I recognized for sure was Michael Phelps. On the ceiling.

Yeah, that was weird.

"Here, come on then," Ed said impatiently, rising from the bed and grabbing my wrist to pull me over. I figured it would be polite not to pull away so I let myself be led. He pulled out a square of chocolate and then handed me the bag. "Have one."

I put down my bag reluctantly, then reached in a hand and took a chocolate, unwrapping it slowly and staring it. Dark, sweet, raspberry, offered by Ed...

Hansel and Gretel and the candy witch. I wondered when I'd be stuck in a cage or shoved into the oven.

_Shit_.


	18. Chapter 18

AN by: indigo oceans

Ahahahaha I'm _sooo_ tired, I stayed up late last night and the night before working on the next chapter so I could finish it and PFF could post it while I was on vacation. THIS IS THE EXTENT OF PFF'S PERSUASIVE POWERS - I MEAN, THIS IS THE EXTENT OF MY DEDICATION. I was actually finished at around twelve-thirty but then we started roleplaying and _did you know_ that Envy isn't sure how to react when people are nice to him? Well, yeah, you probably did, I mean, you're reading this damn thing, but... Yes. He's a bitch, isn't he? (Be careful how you answer; he's based a lot on me. Or rather, I'm based a lot on him? We're a lot alike. I'm like canon!Envy only a bit more stable. It's bizarre.)

But speaking of likenesses to certain characters, Ed really can't flirt. And guess who's fault that is, hmmm? Guess who can't flirt? Ahahaha I'm being mean. I actually think stuff like Ed's flirting-only-not is really cute... as long as I don't have to really put up with it. Well, maybe I can put up with it. I suppose.

Oh and one more thing! To you lovely anonymous reviewers who understood my _Hetalia_ reference: HETALIA IS AWESOME. AND SO ARE YOU.

Chapter by: Potions For Foxes

**Stupid Cupid**

_(quit hitting on me)_

Chapter Eighteen

I made up my mind to approach Envy after English. We didn't have any other classes together and I wasn't about to try and catch him during lunch either. Not after yesterday. Ling's right, I could just ask him to help me study. It made sense too. Rix announced that Envy got a perfect score and implied that I hadn't. Perhaps _implied _isn't quite the right word.

"Hey, Ed," Winry said. She gave me a concerned look. "Are you okay? You look a bit edgy. It's not about English? Because I can help you with that after I finish beating it into Russell's thick skull." Winry said the last bit while glaring at Russell. Russell cowered behind Ling, which doesn't work so well because Russell, standing at 6'2", is the tallest in our group. Even Ling's shorter than he and Ling's tall.

"Nah, I'm good," I said. She frowned and opened her mouth. Before Winry could interject, I said: "I'll catch you guys later."

I waved at them and walked over to where Envy and Roy were. This wasn't a big deal. I was just going to ask him if he could maybe help me with English, just school stuff. Not like a date or anything, just really casual. Envy and Roy are just talking. I'll just go over and—

He just shoved Envy! Envy was on the ground. I didn't think. I lunged at Roy. My fist slammed against his jaw with a sickening thud. He stumbled away, a stunned look on his face that swiftly changed to outrage.

"What the FUCK?!" Roy yelled, rubbing his jaw. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

I leapt toward Roy, desperate to land another blow. Fucking bastard hurt Envy. Roy stepped forward, furious. He might've been confused at first but now he was just as willing to continue the fight as I was.

"Stop it!" Envy grabbed the back of my shirt suddenly and shouted at Roy. I lunged for Roy again but Envy wouldn't let go. For someone that skinny, he's pretty strong.

Roy didn't look like he wasn't going to listen. He took a step toward me and while I really didn't want to hurt Envy, I wasn't too hot on the idea of letting him hold me while Roy beat—

He stepped in front of me. Whoa. This was a new thing. He was protecting _me_?

"Why are you protecting the midget?" Roy said with a sneer.

I.

Am.

Not.

Short.

"DON'T CALL ME SHORT! I'M NOT SHORT!" I shouted at Roy. I threw myself towards him. That was it! I may have started the fight because he shoved Envy, but he just called me short. I'm not a midget! I'm not small! "DON'T CALL ME A PIPSQUEAK! I'M NOT SMALL!"

My fist slammed into his stomach. Roy grunted and doubled over. I punched him again and we fell to the ground. He tried to roll on top of me, but I've fought Al who's _exactly_ my height and not an inch taller. I hit him again with my other hand. I think I got his nose or that squish could've been his eyeball... Still it didn't stop him from punching my cheek. He tried to throw me off again, but I hung on. Roy's easy compared to Ling "I Have Mad Ninja Tricks" Yao and Russell "I'm A Friggin' Giant" Tringham.

Roy's fist smashed into my mouth. I bit my tongue and yelped.

"You dumbass!" Envy shrieked. He waded into the fight. He didn't punch us or take sides. He just kicked at us indiscriminately. Both Roy and I were struggling to punch each other and fend off Envy's wild kicks. I felt a hand on my braid and tried to duck away.

"You fucking numbskulls!" Envy yelled and yanked my braid.

"Ow! Ow! Ow! Hair!" I yelped. I stopped fighting and cringed. Mom always used to grab Al and I by the hair when we got into fights. We're both extremely tender-headed. I looked up at Envy, hoping he's not too pissed at me. That's when Roy decided it'd be a great time to punch me in the stomach. I doubled over and yelped again as Envy kicked Roy away. He turned to do it and pulled me with him. He's still holding my hair! And it _hurts_.

"Well, well, well," Rix said, walking out of his classroom "What do we have here? You three weren't fighting in my corridor, where you?" He grinned maliciously. Envy let go of my hair. Roy looked up, horrified.

"Oh shit."

"Fuck," I whispered. This is bad. This is really bad. Mom is—she'll kill me. Rix will have a field day with this tomorrow; he's going to be awful.

"Actually, Kurt," a cold voice said. "This isn't your hallway, and seeing as your class, and hence jurisdiction over these students, ended a few minutes ago, why don't you go back to your room and prep for your next class?" It's Riza Hawkeye, the relay coach for track and field. And she's going to kill me. Unlike Hughes, who has a soft spot for his athletes, Riza holds hers to a high standard.

"Come with me," Riza said in a voice devoid of emotion. "I'll escort you to the office and _they_, not some rogue English _teacher_ will deal with you." Rix slinked, there's no other word for it, back into his classroom. I stared after him horrified. I am so dead.

Envy and Roy shared a look. Roy just shrugged and let Envy help him up. That's odd, I thought they were fighting… My face fell as I realized that the shoving match might've just been friendly. But Envy was on the ground!

"You're such a fucking dumbass," Envy muttered. I'm not even sure who he means. I bit my lip and looked over at Envy, he's just so, so sexy when he's pissed… I took a few involuntary steps toward him. He turned and I realized I was closer than I should be because I could just lean up on tiptoes to—NO! Don't! Bad! Don't be stupid!

"Hey," I said (choosing the safer route of not kissing him), "We probably should follow Hawkeye, she doesn't like to wait." I placed a hand on Envy's shoulder. He's taller than me, but not by too much. I'm really not that short, just all my friends are giants…

"Don't touch me; you're an even bigger idiot than that one," Envy said, gesturing towards Roy. I winced a little. _Don't touch me_. Only Envy didn't sound angry or even upset. Just irritated, like he couldn't believe how stupid Roy and I were. He walked off and I dropped my hand.

"Oh, okay," I said. I looked away. I know I'm blushing. I walked slowly after Envy. I was going to catch up with him eventually. And if it takes me a little while, well, it's not my fault I'm ogling Envy's ass. It's a damn fine ass and it would be an insult to art and beauty if I didn't appreciate it.

Roy caught up with me quickly.

"Stop staring," he muttered. "In a few seconds you'll be drooling."

"So what?" I hissed at him. As if he wasn't looking at Hawkeye's backend in the exact same way. And at least Envy was single. "Oh, and Riza, she's got a boyfriend Roy. They're engaged. Wedding's in the summer. Too bad you don't run track or anything."

"Yeah, pity I never fucked her over or anything; then I'd _really_ have a right to stare at her ass," Roy hissed back.

"You're not one to talk, Roy," I said and glared at him. "That was an _accident._ You on Friday, you did that on purpose."

"Some _accident_," Roy said. "At least I take responsibility for the shit I pull."

"It's a little hard to take responsibility when they won't let you apologize, isn't it?" I said viciously. Before Roy can say anything else, I walked ahead and fell into step with Envy. He just raised an eyebrow at me. Damn, he'd probably heard everything.

I couldn't think of anything to say. This is not the best time to apologize or ask Envy out or some God-awful combination of both, especially while Riza is in the vicinity. I looked at him out of the corner of my eye. He's so pale and honestly quite gorgeous. But I can't just start a conversation with "Did you know you're absolutely beautiful?" Yeah… not happening.

So the walk to the office was silent.

Riza led us into the main office where all of the administrators work. There's a couple counselors chatting over coffee in one of the other rooms. Riza nodded hello to them and a few waved at her. She escorted us through the nurse's office and into a smaller room just off it. All three of us sat down at the table. I sat down next to Envy because I didn't want to sit next to the guy I'd just tried to pummel. Really, that's my reason.

And then Envy…

"Here, the nurse should probably look over the three of you. I will go inform the vice-principal and he will call your parents."

Shit. I didn't think about that. Mom's going to kill me.

"Well I'm in deep shit," Envy said brightly. "As are you." He nodded at Roy, who made some stupid bow. I rolled my eyes. After a pause, Envy took a breath and turned to look at me. "How about you, fuckwit?"

I can't quite figure it out. It's an insult, but it's said almost fondly, like a nickname. Me, personally, I liked Edo a lot better. He used to call me that a lot in freshman year. But hey, he's talking to me right?

"I think my tongue is starting to swell," I said and looked at Roy. He didn't have to punch my mouth, fucktard, he knew about the piercing too. "My mom won't be pleased."

Envy raised an eyebrow and Roy spread his hands in a mocking gesture of innocence. "You were the one that randomly tackled me."

"Shut up," I muttered. It doesn't help that Roy actually has a point. I mean I was the idiot who randomly took a swing at him. And I _am not _going to tell Roy why. It was just he saw—then Envy and... Winry needs to beat me more...

I curled my fingers around the edge of my chair. I was now completely positive that Envy and Roy were engaged in a friendly shoving match or something. And I'd just… Oh God I was stupid. I bit my lip. Nobody said anything and the silence became awkward, until Envy finally asked me, "Bite your tongue or something?"

"I think it was more that Roy hit my mouth, but yeah, shit what if it swells," I said. Fuck there is no way the nurse (and unless I had the good luck to get Maria Ross) won't miss this when she checks us over, I mean if it swelled and I talked funny, she can't miss that. And if my mom gets a call about a fight AND a piercing...well, it's not going to be good.

"What if it swells?" Envy asked. He looked irritated and curious. But I can't just tell him. Where's the fun in that?

"I won't be able to change the barbell out. I still have the metal one in from this weekend," I said and I smiled at him. I couldn't resist it. Not to mention I now had Envy's undivided attention.

"What are you talking about?" Envy asked. He shifted in his seat. He _had_ to know it was a piercing now. I had Envy right where I wanted—okay maybe not _exactly _where I wanted him, but close. Roy looked smug. I don't really blame him. After all, he knew about Envy's piercing fetish.

"My tongue piercing," I said proudly. "Wanna see?"

"Um," Envy said. He looked around and squirmed in his seat. He was blushing slightly and I smiled a bit. He looked so, so huggable. But he'd probably kill me before he let me do _that_. "Um." Then said: "Sure, since you seen determined to show it off anyway."

I stuck my tongue out at Envy and wiggled it around a bit.

"So, what do you think?" I asked before I started to drool or something. Hey, you stick your tongue out and see how long you can go without swallowing. "I mean, it's not as visible as Ling's but..."

"What am I supposed to think?" Envy asked. He looked away quickly. I couldn't tell if he's blushing or not. Roy snorted behind his hand. Okay, Envy's definitely blushing.

"I have another," I said, trying to get Envy's attention again. I just wanted him to look at me. "It's under my shirt."

"Oh really?" he asked. He looked conflicted and I realized that Envy probably isn't too thrilled that everyone knows about his piercing or that I'm pretty much exploiting his fetish, but, but he's paying attention to me! He's not glaring at me and we're talking. He's paying attention to _me_. He's looking at me!

"Yeah, it's kinda stupid, but... some people like it," I said with a shrug. Some people being Winry, as I didn't have it when I was dating Rose and Lyra thought it was a travesty. You know the whole damaging the body God gave me and all that shit.

"Oh, that's nice," Envy said airily. Wait, what? He's not supposed to be magically immune to my piercings. This isn't fair!

"Sure you don't want to see it?" I asked and scooted my chair over until I'm next to Envy. I clinked my barbell against my teeth. He can't resist that!

"Not now, thanks," Envy said. He didn't move away. Score! "I happen to enjoy my personal space." Okay, maybe not score, but hey, not glaring. That's something. That's progress…

"Yeah," I said. I don't move. I should but, he's just and so close and yeah, there's just something about Envy that makes me do the stupidest things. I've never been like this before with a girl. Though girls normally tend to find these things endearing and Envy… "It _is_ a bit girly, but lately I've been thinking, maybe I'd just get the nipple ring and just not _tell_ Mom." I grinned at Envy. Bet he would like that. "You ever considered piercings Roy?"

"Once or twice," Roy said, "But girls consider me sexy enough I don't need 'em." Envy laughed and he moved his chair away from me. I didn't move. There's stupid and then there's _stupid_. I looked over at Envy.

"Envy, have you ever considered piercings at all?"

"Yeah," Envy snapped. I raised my eyebrows. How does that even work? If he got a piercing wouldn't he just spend the whole time masturbating in front of the mirror?

"Oh?" I said, trying not to seem too shocked. "You have?"

"Well, you've certainly been at each other," Maria Ross said as she walked in. She was one of my dad's first students and she did a couple summer projects when Al and I were five or something. Maria or Ms. Ross was one of my dad's favorite students. At least until he figured out that she wasn't a Chem major. Dad hasn't stopped trying to convince to go back into chemistry, and the sad thing is, I think it's going to work. She's not too thrilled with her current job.

Ms. Ross tsked her tongue and looked at us, arms akimbo. She looked at me first. "You'll need to get an icepack on that before your eye swells shut, and oh, your lip is split. There's not much to do besides clean your face, young man. You," She looked at Envy, who wasn't injured at all, just a bit scuffed up. "Seem to be fine. And you." The nurse turned to Roy. "Need an icepack as well."

She disappeared into another room and came back with several icepacks. They're the blue liquid icepacks. You can't put those in your mouth—well, you could, but they're probably toxic.

"The principal has called your parents but he was only able to get a hold of Mr. Mustang's. We'll just wait and see on the others," she informed us before leaving to tend to some more important injury or bee sting or something. I was just glad she didn't try to thoroughly inspect us. Though I'm sure that Roy would've loved that. He has this thing for women he has no chance with. Riza, Maria, Winry… Winry because she doesn't have a high (read: any) tolerance for bullshit.

"She left, just like that?" Envy asked. I stared at him. Why is he so … put out? It wasn't a big deal. It's not like she was super-hyped about treating the ailments of high school students. "I want an icepack too. You idiots are giving me a headache."

"Shit, I think my tongue is swelling," I said. Okay, I couldn't really tell if it's swelling or not, but it felt a bit tender, like I'd bitten my tongue or something. I moved it around a bit, you know, just to see if it was swollen. This was definitely not a ploy to make Envy extremely aware of my piercing. Or to refocus his attention on me. No, not at all… "Envy, could you tell me if it's swelling?" I stuck my tongue out at him.

"I don't think I'm qualified to answer. Maybe you should call the nurse back," he said and stared out the window. Fuck, that didn't work.

"I can't," I said. "If I get in trouble for piercings and a fight, my mom will kill me. And make me get rid of them. So can you please look?" Which wasn't strictly true. While Mom would certainly care, Maria was pretty chill about those things. In fact, she had a lot of piercings herself. Mom called her a bad influence until Dad pointed out that Maria didn't show me her piercings until I'd gotten mine.

"Have Roy look," Envy said shortly. He doesn't look at me.

"No way. He's the reason I'm in here, I'm not checking," Roy said. He didn't really look like he wanted to be part of my spectacularly bad flirting. Not that I blamed him. I definitely don't like watching Roy flirt with Rose, Winry, Marie, Katie, Angel, Lexi, Sara, Mallory, Rachel, Logan, Anna, Alexis, Meghan, Tiffany, Lois, Kara, Melanie, Michelle, Cassidy, Maggie, Krystal, Janis, or Alicia. Envy made a frustrated noise and turned to me.

"Fine," Envy snapped. "I'll fucking play dentist. Open your mouth." That's oddly sexy. I say oddly because I don't really like dentists. They keep lecturing my about how oral piercings can wear down the enamel and my mom just sits there and gives me that _look_.

"Just for you," I said, because I'm a chronically stupid flirt and it's true. I am never this willing for my regular dentist. I tried to look at Envy's face, but it's hard. He's tilted my head back and all I could see were his eyes. He has the most gorgeous eyes I have ever seen. They're beautiful, and not just because they're purple. Sloth's eyes aren't as pretty. Hers are glittery and sharp, like shards of purple glass. He doesn't have Liz Taylor's misty grey-purple eyes either. His are different, like some sort of liquid. Like if you pour root beer in a glass cup and hold it up to the light, that would be Envy's eyes, only they're purple not brown. Not multiple colors, just this incredible depth.

Envy blushed. I could see that much. And the look in his eyes, his fucking amazing eyes, was _hot_.

"I can't see anything," Envy said suddenly. He pulled away and returned to window staring.

"Hey, thanks," I said. I didn't want it to seem like I did this just because Envy has a piercing fetish or kink. Regardless of the fact that it totally was because I wanted Envy to stare at me like that. I just—it wasn't something I wanted him to know. I placed a hand on Envy's shoulder and smiled. "I appreciate it."

He stiffened. Damn.

"Yeah, well, I could be wrong," he said, looking down. "It'd probably be better to stick your tongue out at a mirror or something."

"Well, well, well," a deep voice boomed. I looked up. "It seems to me that the boys are getting along just fine." It was Mr. Mustang. I took my hand off of Envy's shoulder. Now was not the time to try and flirt with him.

"I don't think the boys need much of a punishment, I can understand that you wouldn't want them to stay at school for the rest of the day though." He paused and turned to the principal. "It looks like Ed and Roy have done a number on each other. And you say Envy was the one who pulled them apart. If you like I can drop both boys off at home. They're friends of my son."

Mr. Mustang clapped the principal on the back. The man didn't say anything. He looked vaguely stunned at hearing that we were all friends. I don't blame him. "Fred! It's been ages since you've come over for dinner, how about this weekend, Marie is going to make her apple pie."

Oh so my family wasn't the only one who associated with school officials.

They headed off to another room to chat and presumably work out the details. This actually might turn out okay. My parents (obviously) didn't get the call and if Roy's dad drove me home, well I could erase the message and leave my mom to wonder how I got the bruise on my face. Okay, maybe not so good.

"Geez," Roy said. He too sounded surprised. "He's never been that cool with this kind of shit."

"Must be my inborn charm," Envy said smiling at Roy. Fuck, so he can pay attention to Roy but not me?

"Yeah right," I snapped, crossing my arms. This was so stupid but I was jealous. "Maybe he's waiting to scream at you in the privacy of your own home. You have no idea my mom has pulled that 'Oh it's fine' card in public before spending hours lecturing Al and I when we get home."

"What's gotten up your ass?" Roy asked. He glanced at Envy. I bit back the response of 'It's more what _hasn't_ gotten up my ass.' I had this sneaking suspicion that Envy would _not_ appreciate that. Especially because he's umm the thing that hasn't gotten up my ass… yet.

"Nothing has gotten up my ass Roy," I said and glared at Roy. I didn't look at Envy. My 'crush' on Envy was apparent enough as it was, no need to make it even more blatantly obvious.

"Oh really? That's not what you're acting like," Roy said. Envy shifted around in his chair. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him stretch his legs. The dream, that French maid outfit, and the garter for the stockings—stopping, I can't think about that dream. Not when Roy's in the room! Bad Ed! Bad!

"How would you know what someone with something up their ass acts," I retorted. "Didn't think that was your thing, Roy."

"Just guessing," Roy said easily. "That's how En-" He stopped himself. "That's how Rix acts every day."

"Rix is married to Hawkeye's sister, dumbass," I muttered. "I doubt he's a good reference point."

"Hawkeye's sister?! That's bullshit! He's way too—"

"Will you two please _shut up_ and stop acting like a married couple?" Envy said suddenly. He glared at both of us. "I don't know if you're flirting or continuing Ed's stupid fight and I don't _care_. You're both fucking obnoxious. Shut up."

"He started it," I said and pointed at Roy. Yes, I am just that immature.

"It's always good to see you, Leo," The principal said to Roy's dad as they walked in. "Don't worry about the boys, they can email their teachers or something. Besides, they must be punished."

"Right you are, Fred," Mr. Mustang said. "Now let's go, or do you have anything important in your lockers?"

Roy shook his head.

"No, Mr. Mustang," Envy said, politely. He smiled at Mr. Mustang. "Thanks for picking us up."

"Yeah, er thanks," I said quickly, remembering to be polite. Damn Envy can be charming when he wants to be. "Don't have anything in my locker either.

"Well, shall we," Mr. Mustang said. As well follow him out, I can't help but overhear Envy whispering to Roy about how much shit he's going to be in. Something about Pride (I'm pretty sure that's his dad) and Greed (a relative?) and it not being good when he gets home. Wait, what if I…

"Uh Mr. Mustang?" I said, loudly enough so that Envy could hear. Oh God this was stupid. "Could you possibly drop Envy off with me? He promised to go over the English test with me, since he got hundred percent and I um... kinda failed it."

Envy spun around and stared at me, like I had just sprouted wings or had radishes growing out of my ears. Roy shrugged and winked. The bastard. This _wasn't _going to be like his version of study dates. Though if that happened I wouldn't—no! Dammit! Focus!

"Nice job Envy," Mr. Mustang said. He sounded pleased. I guess Roy's parents approved of Envy, strange. It's obviously nothing against Envy but Roy's parents? "Sure thing Ed. I was never much good at grammar myself. I had this awful teacher, she was ancient and she had this squeaky voice. Ugh. Didn't learn a thing from her."

"Um, thanks," Envy said looking at Mr. Mustang. He smiled at the compliment and gave me a strange look. I smiled back. Envy is going to be at my house for the next oh, three hours or so. That's definitely enough time to prove that I'm not a complete jerk, right? And then I had those chocolates in my room. Plus, I wasn't kidding when I said I failed the test.

The drive to my house was brief; awkward, but brief. Mr. Mustang had country music playing in the car and Roy couldn't sit still. He kept shifting around in his seat and shooting Envy and me apologetic looks. And Envy, Envy just stared out the window. He looked nervous and a little apprehensive. He bit his lip and his hair was in his face. He just looked really adorable. I couldn't help but wonder what he would look like in the French maid costume or—no, really shouldn't be thinking that at all.

I fumbled with the door when the car stopped in my driveway. Envy thanked Mr. Mustang and I waved as he pulled out. I walked up the front door and Envy followed. He hovered and didn't say anything.

"Here, I have a key somewhere," I said, rummaging around in my backpack for it. It should be right there. "Got it!" I opened the door and walked in boldly. It was refreshing to be able to walk into my own home without fear of Al tackling me.

Out of habit I walked towards the stairs. I stopped suddenly. Right, Envy's here and I probably should see what he wants to do first.

"Er, do you want something to drink?" I asked, turning to face him. "Or should we go up to my room?"

Envy hesitated slightly.

"Um, no, I'm not thirsty," he said.

"Okay, it's just up the stairs," I said. I normally take the stairs two at a time because it's faster, but then I remember that Envy probably isn't used to going that fast, but he does have a big house. From what I remember, it's at least three stories, but his bedroom isn't on the top floor. "Sorry about the climb, third floor and all." I laughed nervously.

"Um, no worries," Envy said. I'm halfway up the first flight of stairs and he hasn't even set foot on the first stair. I grinned back at him and dashed up the stairs. I still can't believe it. Envy's here. He's actually here, in my house, and he's going to be in my room, and this means he doesn't hate me right?

"Oh and yeah," I said walking down the hallway, Envy trailing behind. "I have some chocolates you might like."

"Um," he paused and looked at me strangely, "Um, good?"

Right, way to not sound like a total creeper. Brilliant.

"Yeah, turns out I misread Al's handwriting, big surprise, and Mom likes peanut butter, not raspberry," I said. It was an honest mistake, not an attempt at preparing for Envy's arrival. "So I have two bags of the raspberry ones." I dropped my backpack down at the door and run across the room. I approached the bed in a curve and sprung off. I led with my right arm, arched my back, and flipped my legs over the imaginary high jump bar. I landed out of the perfect Fallsbury flop to rest on my comfy bed.

I couldn't wait for track season. I was totally going to own like Charles Austin, Olympic record holder.

I reached down behind my bed and grabbed the Ghiradelli package.

"Want some?" I offered the bag to Envy. He gingerly stepped into my room.

"Um," Envy said. "I guess." He didn't move.

"Here, come on then," I said and pulled him over to the bed. "Have one."

Forcing chocolate on him, brilliant idea Ed. I bit my lip. It was better than some of the things I wanted to say like 'I want to date you' and 'you have an awesome ass.' Both of which were true, but not really things that would make Envy feel comfortable. I took a bite of chocolate. I can't proposition Envy if my mouth is full.

"You should do something about your face," Envy said, gingerly accepting the chocolate. He blushed. "Er, I mean there's a bruise." He trailed off.

"Oh, right fuck," I said. I'd forgotten about that. Besides, there was also my tongue to worry about. "I should probably suck on some ice too. You know, just in case, I do not want an infection. Not fun at all." I shuddered. Al says that I'm just neurotic and there's no way a little swelling could hurt. However, I've never gotten an infection. "Plus I bet you're hungry too, missing lunch and all. There should be something in the fridge. Back downstairs?"

"Sure," Envy said. He picked up his backpack again.

"Oh, um," I said quickly. I didn't mean that we were going to stay in the kitchen the whole time. "You can leave your bag up here." Great. That sounded like I wanted to keep him upstairs so I could have my wicked way with him… which would be awesome but—I'd rather not have sex in a place where both my mom and brother could walk in. "It's generally safer to stay upstairs, what with Al and all." I could feel the conversation begin to die. "Hey, you've never met Sheba or Sheldon."

"Who?" Envy asked.

"Sheba, she's my cat, pretty awesome cat too," I said as I walked down the stairs. "Sheldon's my Border collie, he's a bit dense sometimes, but he's smarter than Uno and nicer than Trixie."

"Um, who're they," Envy asked. I can't believe I've never mentioned them. Though, I can't exactly remember what we did talk about freshman year. As ridiculously cheesy, I think we both just stared at each other and blushed a bit and yeah…

"Uno and Trixie are the labs. Trixie's my mom's dog and Uno, Uno's trouble. He's so stupid. You won't believe all the pain and suffering he brings upon this house."

I led Envy quickly through the hallway and into the area Mom likes to call "the breakfast nook." Quickly, because Mom likes to place really embarrassing photos in the hallway and she rotates them out so I'm never sure where they are. Envy laughed nervously and looked around for somewhere to sit.

I opened the fridge; hopefully, Al's science experiment is stored elsewhere. I will never forget the time when I accidentally ate his assignment. Granted it had something to do with Jell-O and pineapples.

"What do you feel like having?" I asked. Envy looked at me. He's sitting at the counter.

"I'm fine," he says and nibbles on the chocolate in a really just darling—fuck I can't believe I just used the word darling—way.

"You sure?" I asked. Envy's pretty skinny and he should definitely eat more. That and I don't think I've ever skipped a meal before, or at least not willingly. I remember Mom sending Al and me to bed without dinner a few times. That wasn't fun.

"Yeah," Envy said and smiled at me. I blinked. He's smiling at me! There's something fluttering in my stomach. I smiled back at him. Envy's _smiling_ at me! _Smiling!_ I blushed and moved stuff around in the fridge. Hopefully Envy didn't see anything.

"Oh! Look, we have sushi!" I said suddenly. I pulled the small black and clear plastic tray out.

"What kind?" Envy asked.

"Er," I said and set it on the counter. "Looks like California rolls, might be something better towards the back where Al's hidden it." I walked over and got out a glass. Hughes had said something about water and Russell has spent the last couple years muttering about how you can't drink enough water. "Want anything to drink? Water?"

"Sure," Envy said. I could feel him watching me and I tried not to drop the glasses. Mom would kill me if I got glass shards on her floor. I breathed slowly and tried to ignore the fact that my hand trembled when I filled up the glasses.

"Here," I said and handed a glass to Envy. I quickly sat down next to Envy and reached for a piece of sushi. Envy watched me. I slowly put the sushi roll in my mouth and ate it. Envy just watched. Envy places his chin on his hand and stared at me, like he was the Great Sphinx or the Mona Lisa. He had the same kind of halfway smile they did, like all three of them knew something I didn't.

"Yes?" I said finally. Do I have something on my face? Is there something behind me? What? Why is he just staring like that? I felt my cheeks turn red. I was blushing. Damn. "You want something?" Oh fuck, that was suggestive. I turned bright red.

"No, not really," Envy said calmly. He glanced away, almost bored. "Weren't you going to do something about that bruise on your face?"

"Oh! Yeah, right. Thanks En," I said quickly. My face was still bright red. I got up and walked over to the draw where Mom always keeps the nicer washcloths (scudzy ones in the closet near the bathroom). There's ice cubes in the freezer and I grabbed a handful. Most went into the washcloth, but I plunked some into my drink. I wrapped the clothe around the ice cubes and pressed it to my face.

The rough cloth stung slightly, but it felt good. I guess it really was starting to swell. I sat back down and looked over at Envy, who was, yes, still staring.

"I look ridiculous," I said with a slight smile. Envy shrugged slightly and nibbled his chocolate. This would be rather perfect if it wasn't for the fact the tension and nervous energy was practically palpable. I don't know how many times I dreamed of doing something like this freshman year, of being brave enough to ask Envy out. Okay well, this isn't exactly how I would've imagined it. It isn't at all how I would've imagined it then, but that's forgivable.

And after yesterday, I never thought that something like this would be _possible_. Envy had told me on no uncertain terms that he didn't want anything to do with me. Now he was awkwardly eating chocolate in my kitchen while I nervously drank water and ate sushi. Not exactly what I'd imagined for the first date, but, but he's not glaring at me or yelling at me or anything. And it's really quite nice, just hanging out with him. I like it. I like it a lot. I like _him_ a lot.

* * *

Fin.

Sorry about being so late. That was entirely my fault. The chapter just ended up sucking so much that I had to go through it line by line with my awesome and amazing and ever-so-patient beta/best friend Anna. Otherwise, well you'd have never seen the chapter…

~Potions For Foxes.


	19. Chapter 19

AN by: Potions for Foxes

So yeah, this was written in two days by Indy (as you might've guessed from her AN last chapter). It was done out of concern for you guys and the fact that I wanted to read the chapter too…

Basically, Indy spent one night staying up till 1 am (I went to be at 11 pm because _I _was tired and was recovering from an 8 hour drive from Santa Barbara). Then I kept her up til 4 am the next night with more writing and an epic RP that you will never see … unless; say we get twenty reviews for this chapter. Twenty good ones mind. (And even then it will be in an extremely edited form… though that's more to do with the rating system than anything)

Let's just say it involves Ed and Envy in Ed's house together—sans Al and parents, with handcuffs and chocolate syrup. Twenty _good _reviews. I will go over what a good review, just so we're all clear on it.

**Contains proper English. **If English is not your first language, you might want to state that. However, I've noticed that the main problems come from AMERICANS. This is not a text message. Capitalize letters and use VOWELS (a, e, i, o, u, and sometimes y). It's not that hard.

**Mentions what you liked about the chapter. **What were your reactions when Ed did… What did you think when Envy… That stuff.

**That's it. That's a good review. **Proper grammar and specifics from the story. That's it. That's a good review.

And I'm sorely tempted to decree that all update!reviews count against the twenty… but I won't have to, because most of you guys are really good about that!

Oh, and check out synecdoche on Dictionary. com before you read. There's an option that pronounces the word for you. (Which makes looking up Fuck really fun because it's this proper voice an all…) For those of you who don't: si-nek-duh-kee

So this chapter is brought to you by Indy's heroic efforts and caffeine.

Anyways, this chapter = awesome. I am going to work very hard to top it.

Chapter by: indigo oceans

**Stupid Cupid**

_(quit hitting on me)_

Chapter Nineteen

I hate a lot of things, you know, like disgustingly thick Russian food and Sloth trying to control my life and being molested by the squishy and stupid people and randomly getting kissed by Russell. And I have hated a lot more things, like raspberries (which I would refuse to eat back in elementary school) and cats (used to make me sneeze) and the artist formerly known as Edward _fucking_ Elric. But I don't think there's anything I have ever hated as much as... _an awkward silence_.

Yeah, yeah, I know what you're thinking - how dumb is that? Why not hate poverty or serial killers or homophobics or AIDS or something, dare I say, useful? But I think if awkward silences were exterminated completely, the world would be one hell of a better place.

No, really. If there were no awkward silences, you wouldn't have to grasp for something to say to start a new conversation! And since you're in such a panic because the silence is so awkward, you might say something that would offend the other person! That's how the French and Indian War started, you know - or the Seven Years War to you European buffs. The king of France said something awkward about the English ambassador's dinner selection and it just escalated from there!

Well, okay, that's not _actually_ what happened (I think - you never know though, history can get pretty weird), but I still stand by my assertion that awkward silences are an abomination and should be erased. If they didn't exist, I wouldn't be standing in the middle of Ed's room staring at a piece of chocolate and wishing someone would _say_ something already.

Ed was just sitting there, eating chocolate. Maybe he was some kind of creepy masochist that _liked_ awkward silences. Or maybe his mouth was full, but I liked my first interpretation better. I glanced up at him before looking down at my own chocolate again. I couldn't take it any more.

"You should do something about your face," I blurted out, then nearly slapped my forehead in consternation. _This_ is why awkward silences get people in trouble. Now Ed would want to know just what I thought was wrong with his absolutely perfect face, and I'd stumble for an excuse while he indulged in a bit of narcissism. Probably. I hurried to cover my back. "Err, I mean, there's a bruise..."

"Oh, right, fuck," Ed replied with an easy smile. ...He probably hadn't even noticed the awkward silence. "I should probably suck on some ice, too." (Possible response: "That's not all you should suck." Rejected.) "You know, just in case; I do _not _want an infection. Not fun at all. Plus, I bet you're hungry too, missing lunch and all. There should be something in the fridge. Back downstairs?"

I really wasn't hungry, but telling Ed that would probably merit a weird reaction, so... "Sure," I replied. We had only been upstairs for five minutes; I felt like some kind of yo-yo - upstairs, downstairs, upstairs... You get the picture. I picked up my bag again, enjoying its comforting weight on my shoulder, and waited for Ed to lead the way.

"Oh, um, you can leave your bag here," Ed said, shoving the bag of chocolates away and standing. "It's generally safe to stay upstairs, what with Al and all." I had no idea what to say in response so I kept my mouth shut. "Hey, you've never met Sheba or Sheldon!"

More siblings? Twins, toddlers, maybe? Ew. I set my bag down reluctantly. It would've made me more comfortable to keep it with me - something of mine to hold on to, ground me, assure me that no I wasn't dreaming. Which would have been nice because you know, at this state I still wasn't sure whether or not it would turn into a nightmare. Oh yeah, Ed had been talking about some... people? "Who?" I asked.

"Sheba, she's my cat, pretty awesome cat too," Ed said, and I was a bit surprised. He didn't seem at all like a cat person to me; from what I had heard that was mostly his brother. "Sheldon's my border collie, he's a bit dense sometimes, but he's smarter than Uno and nicer than Trixie."

Ah, what. "Um, who're they?" I asked, following behind Ed down the stairs. Felt like I was having a conversation with his braid.

"Uno and Trixie are labs. Trixie's my mom's dog and Uno, Uno's trouble. He's so stupid. You won't believe all the pain and suffering he brings upon this house." I wondered why they still kept him, then. I've never really understood people's love for their pets. Ed led me through a dining room type of area and into the kitchen, which was decorated quite classily. Lots of wrought iron accents, speckled teal countertops, mahogany cabinets, et cetera.

Of course, Ed headed straight for the fridge. "What do you feel like having?" he asked, opening the door and sticking his head inside.

I looked around before settling onto one of the barstools at the counter, hooking my feet under the rung. "I'm fine," I said, taking a bite of my chocolate. If I didn't eat it soon it'd get all melty and gross.

"You sure?" Ed asked, being the damn conscientious jock he is.

Resisting the urge to roll my eyes and flip him off or something equally offensive (Ling wouldn't have approved), I tried a different tactic. "Yeah," I said, and gave him a smile. Hopefully it didn't look as nervous as it seemed.

Ed grinned back and then quickly stuck his head back into the refrigerator. He blushed! I saw it! He blushed because _I_ smiled at him, now who was holding all the cards, hmm, you piercing fetish-manipulating cad?! Haha! Suddenly I felt a lot more at ease. I had power now; this was something I could control.

"Oh, look, we have sushi!" Ed said quickly.

"What kind?" I asked, feigning interest. It wasn't like I'd eat it anyway; when it came to Asian food I preferred Chinese. Raw fish and rice just aren't my thing.

"Er..." Ed dug it out and set a plastic container on the counter. "Looks like California rolls." I made a face. "There might be something better near the back where Al's hidden it..." He shrugged, straightened, and walked to the cabinet, grabbing a glass. "Want anything to drink? Water?"

"Sure," I said, figuring if I ingested something Ed wouldn't be able to bug me about not eating.

Ed grabbed a second glass and filled that one too, handing it to me before sitting down. "Here." I took it, and watched as Ed ate a piece of sushi. I wondered... Hmm. If smiling at him could get a reaction, what if I just stared?

If it were anyone else I might've gone further, but it was _Ed_, formerly Edward fucking Elric, formerly (?) my worst enemy, and… Yeah, I wasn't about to start touching him. So I placed my chin on my hand and watched him eat. It was really hard not to smirk or start giggling as his eyes darted to my face and then back again. And his mouth was still full of sushi, too!

"...Yes?" Ed asked slowly, finally, after swallowing. "You want something?" Suddenly he clamped his mouth shut and turned bright red. That was quick.

I resisted the urge to say _Only your soul_ or something equally inane. "No, not really," I said instead. "Weren't you going to do something about that bruise on your face?"

"Oh, yeah, right!" Ed said, and I couldn't believe he had actually forgotten... "Thanks, En!" I wasn't quite sure how I felt about him using that nickname again, but... Eh, it was better than fucking _Sunshine_. Ed got up to grab a washcloth and filling it with ice cubes before pressing it to his face. "I look ridiculous."

I was tempted to agree, but I took the high road and shrugged one shoulder, taking a bite of my chocolate as an excuse not to reply. I kept staring at Ed, wondering if he'd still react...

But he stood there like a log, with the washcloth pressed to his face and still wearing that dumb grin. _Boring_...

"Why'd you punch Roy, anyway?" I asked suddenly. The staring game had lost its appeal. "Getting out some pent-up aggression or something?"

"Uh..." Ed replied intelligently, and turned bright red again. Score! "It actually may be more stupid than that..." It probably was. "You'll probably hit me again if I tell you."

I'd probably want to, I thought, but bit my tongue before I could blurt _that_ out. "You could get a bruise on the other side of your face," I suggested instead. "Then you'd match on both sides." I had only hit Ed once before, in... in freshman year.

"Uhh..." Ed said again, ducking his head and blushing even more. "I don't know about that..." He sounded remarkably noncommittal, which was strange. Most people would have said something like "Oh, _fuck_ no!" But maybe he was _so_ desperate for my attention that he'd take abuse too. I _liked_ that hypothesis. (Haha as if it were true.)

"You never know," I assured him, taking another bite of my chocolate. There, it was two-thirds finished. I met Ed's eyes with a small smirk. "Until you tell me, that is."

Ed steeled himself. So he _was_ going to tell me? Interesting. "Roy _shoved_ you and I was really, really, _really_ stupid and didn't think because he shoved you." Ed looked up at me with his stupid golden puppy dog eyes, the icepack still pressed to his face. "Don't hit me?"

Tempting, Edo, veery tempting. "Oh?" I asked, raising an eyebrow archly. I strove for Sloth's '_Is that so?_' tone. "I hit Roy first, why not punch _me_ in the mouth?"

"Er..." Ed was blushing again. He looked away quickly. "Well, um... I don't like Roy?" When he met my eyes again it was with an extremely guilty grin. He really looked like a two year old waiting to be punished... Ah, how pathetic. I couldn't help but want to draw it out a little.

Being oblivious is fun. "Thought you were friends," I pointed out, resting my chin on my hand again.

"Er, we're not close, and... " Ed squeezed his eyes shut and blushed even more. I wondered if that was what he looked like during s- NO! _Bad_ Envy, don't go there! I-I didn't even like him that way! "He _shoved_ you," he continued, thankfully oblivious to my inner turmoil. "...I guess I'm just a bit jealous," Ed concluded after a short pause in which I tried to rein in any thought regarding him that went beyond _he's slightly pathetic and more than slightly fun to manipulate_.

I winced as Ed crunched an ice cube in his mouth. Jealous? Well, that sort of made sense, given his 'boyfriend' comment in Manny's... but honestly. Me and Roy? Who was he trying to kid? "Of what?" I asked him scornfully. "_You _want to be the one that shoves me?" For some reason that made me recall freshman year. I suddenly got the urge to smack my head against the granite countertop or smack Ed's head against it... or both.

Ed looked away like I had slapped him. I bit my lip as he stared out the kitchen window. "Why will you forgive Roy and not me?" he asked finally, his voice flat.

Okay, now I was the confused one. "Forgive him for what?" I asked, wondering where the hell this conversation was headed now. "I pushed him first." It wasn't like I had been expecting Roy to just get shoved and ignore my obvious antagonizing.

"NO!" Ed nearly shouted, and I flinched back a little. "Not about that, I mean, oh, this is stupid." He turned back to face me, a slightly manic look in his eyes. "You really want me to tell you?"

My blank look expressed my feelings perfectly. For once I wasn't dissembling; I was genuinely, deeply confused. "Well, I mean..."

"Alright, look," Ed said, leaning forward a little. I leaned back. "You just - he always - and it's not fair!" I blinked. That didn't explain _anything_. "Just... you... why? I mean, I was an idiot in freshman year and I can't believe that - so fucking stupid - I'm sorry and I like you and you always forgive Roy, but I guess I'm worse than that, right?" Attempting a laugh, Ed chocked on a piece of sushi.

I pounded him on the back, sighing inwardly. Of _course_ he had been talking about freshman year. Everything _always_ went back to freshman year. "Uhh..." I cast about for something to say that wouldn't come out as an angry tirade or a flood of tears. "Don't die, or else they'll arrest me for murder."

"I'm -" Ed coughed "- not going to die -" He doubled over again with some particularly disgusting hacking noises. I made a face. After a few moments, he managed to swallow the sushi. I kept my hand on his back as a sort of precaution.

"Good," I said. And then, because it was true, "I guess thinking about me and Roy is bad for your health." Even through the fabric of his jacket, Ed's back was warm and strong. I could feel his muscles under my hand.

"Yeah, no kidding," Ed replied, giving me a soppy smile. I hastily removed my hand, blushing.

"Maybe you should give it up?" I suggested, trying to recover some composure. "You'd probably live longer."

Ed frowned slightly. "Maybe I should give -" he repeated to himself, then blinked. "I mean, why should I worry about you and Roy, he's chronically straight, girls and boobs and all that stuff. And you're, wait are you ga- you aren't straight are you?" He gave me a completely terrified look and I could barely choke back a bitter laugh. Me. Straight. After freshman year, after all that...

"Uh, I didn't mean it that way," I said flatly. Discussing sexuality with Ed - ah, Edward fucking Elric - was not on my to-do list today. "I mean just, you know, in general." _Give up on me_.

Apparently no one had taught Ed the definition of 'Drop it and leave it the fuck alone.' "Well, I'm bi, but you probably already know that, I mean, Sloth had to have told you something, I mean, you do know that I'm bi, right? But not like Russell, oh God, not like Russell, he'd have sex with anything with a pulse, I think he draws the line there, God I hope he draws the line there," Ed babbled. I hoped he was covering his eyes out of embarrassment, because, ah, I mean... what an _idiot_.

And how to reply to that? "Uh, yeah, Russell and I, um, talked in Psychology." I left out mention of the kiss because it was _embarrassing_, and, seriously, who knew how Ed would've reacted at that point? "But yeah, I know that." I leaned forward a little and watched Ed. If he was off balance already my stare might produce interesting results.

"Oh, well, uh that's good," Ed replied, blushing. His eyes darted to my face and then away. "So, ah, what about you? You're not straight are you?" He gave an awkward and slightly desperate smile and I wanted to smack him.

Dumbass. I thought he had forgotten about that part of the conversation, or had been at least embarrassed enough to let it go. "I'm sure Sloth told you in your little chat," I snapped stiffly, probably sounding a little more annoyed than I should have. "Don't ask if you already know."

"Look, I'm sorry, it's just that... Oh, right." Ed looked sheepish. Good. "Um, I don't think telling you that I was terrified you didn't like guys for a moment there is going to help? But, um, man... I don't think there's one thing with you I _haven't_ fucked up, is there?" He ran his fingers through his hair, looking worried.

Well, if he were genuinely worried then I could genuinely think about his question. Looking back... After freshman year... "You did let me come here instead of my parents' house," I said, though that had been a little bit creepy, "and gave me chocolate," though that was almost creepier. "But then again, that fight was your fault in the first place so I guess you're right." I gave him a tight smile. "You really do fuck everything up." Which was kinda funny in its own pathetic way.

"He shoved you," Ed muttered, and I rolled my eyes. _Still_ going on about Roy, was he?

I brushed off his complaint. "Happens all the time, Edo. That's what friends are for." As soon as I realized what I had just said, I clamped my mouth shut. Shit, _Edo_? Where the fuck had _that_ come from? If Ed's nickname for me was 'Sunshine', my name for him would have to be 'Edo'. Which in retrospect is kinda lame, I mean, it's not _nearly_ as stupid or gay as Sunshine. But still, I hadn't meant to call him that at all. It just... sort of... slipped out.

Ed looked... thrilled. Dammit. "You used to call me that freshman year," he said with a smile. "You're the only one who calls me - called me that."

I shifted on the stool uncomfortably. "It was -" I began. It was what? An accident? Yeah, because that sounded great. "I mean, I'm sorry, it slipped out." Not that that sounded much better, really.

"It's okay," Ed said before grinning at me. "I kinda like it." Now I was probably redder than a tomato. I stared at my hands, my fingers now laced tightly together. I had finished my chocolate somewhere along the way so I couldn't even distract myself with that, and Ed seemed absurdly happy and...

I fucking hate awkward silences.

Luckily this time Ed was the one to break it. He stood, and, looking embarrassed, asked, "Er, do you want to go back up to my room? I wasn't kidding about English. I seriously failed it."

"Well..." I knew Ed had studied for his test but I hadn't thought that he actually expected _me_ to help him out. I mean, it wasn't like I even deserved that hundred percent, really, and it wasn't like I couldn't teach him anything he didn't already know... probably... I bet I was blushing. "I mostly guessed," I told him halfheartedly, but got up to follow him anyway. We climbed to his room in silence.

"I don't think I've ever done this badly on a test before," Ed muttered as he dug out the crumpled paper from his school bag and tossed it onto the bed.

I bent down to retrieve my bookbag and ruffle through the miscellaneous papers for my own test, suggesting, "Maybe it was an off day." Knowing Ed, that's probably all it was. I finally found my test, smoothed it out on my lap... and looked up to see Ed with his back turned, unbuttoning his shirt. "What the hell are you doing?!" I squawked as he slipped his shirt off all the way. His back was... um, really toned. I could see his shoulder muscles rippling a little as he tossed his shirt away and, and... Fuck, for a pipsqueak he was pretty -

"Huh?" Ed turned, and blinked. Like it was totally normal to randomly get undressed in front of someone, maybe that was what he did for a living, maybe -

FULL FRONTAL VIEW, my mind was screaming. ABS. FUCKING SIX PACK. BELLY BUTTON PIERCING.

_Fucking belly button piercing_.

I _ripped_ my eyes away and stared at my paper like my glare could burn a hole in it. Though at the moment, my blush was more likely to do the job. I felt like my face was on fire. (But then another part of my brain stroked its metaphorical chin - it wasn't a nipple piercing, huh. I thought belly button piercings were too... girly for most guys.) "Why are you stripping? I thought we were supposed to be going over the test." To make it worse - or, maybe, better? - Ed had... a really, _really_ nice body.

"I generally study naked," Ed replied with a smirk and a salacious wiggle of his eyebrows (I know what his expression looked like because I glanced up just in time - which I regretted immediately).

It took a heroic effort to resist the urge to slap my forehead - or slap Ed. Okay. This was Ed's house, I reminded myself, Ed's game, Ed's rules. I'd play inside the lines - for now. And anyway, why pass up another chance to make him uncomfortable? He had left himself wide open. "Oh really?" I asked, focusing on his _face_, his _eyes_ - instead of the silver piercing that glinted so enticingly just a few feet down... "Since it's your house, maybe I should study naked too." I prayed he wouldn't take me up on that offer. Maybe I had gone a little too far.

Ed gulped, visibly discomfited. Heh, take that, you _bastard_. "Ah-ah-ah, if you want to?" he stuttered. "I was um, just going to um change out of school clothes, and um, but if you want to that's fine too." _Ha_! Called _your_ bluff!

"Just kidding," I said quickly before Ed could take me any more seriously. I glanced back down to my test and _shit_ Ed's piercing was _right_ there and I could see it out of the corner of my eye if I looked but - no! I wasn't looking at it! I wasn't! I didn't care! I didn't want to touch it! Or play with it! Fuck! "Please put on a shirt," I managed. Screw flirting, this was just unfair.

"Don't like the piercing?" Ed asked, and I could _hear_ the smirk in his voice. But he turned around - the little glint of silver vanished, anyway - and I heard him rummaging around his room. I kept my eyes focused on my paper, just in case. "Do you want to change into something more comfortable? I don't know if you'll -" a pause "- fit into my jeans or anything..."

Ew. Why would I want to wear _Ed's_ clothes? And he was right. I bet his jeans would be at least four inches too short and two inches too wide in the hips. I looked up to reply and - ah, fuck, piercing, fuck, I was _ignoring_ the damn thing. If I kept getting distracted like that I'd lose! Okay. Focus. I gave Ed a crooked smirk. "I'm fine with my school clothes." To prove the point, I loosened my tie and unbuttoned the first few buttons of my shirt, figuring hey, maybe this would level the playing field. A little.

"Suit yourself," Ed said skeptically, pulling on a large, ratty shirt and kicking off his shoes and socks. He turned to me as I unbuttoned the last button. "Nice nail polish."

Damn. I had forgotten that yesterday, Sloth had insisted on painting my nails a becoming shade of black. I glanced at them before curling my fingers into fists and putting my hands in my lap. "Oh, thanks," I told Ed sarcastically, but didn't go any further - he _had_ defended me about nail polish on Friday, at Target, so I figured I could give him the benefit of the doubt. I slipped off my shoes and socks awkwardly and hastily crossed my legs underneath me on the bed. Sloth had painted my toenails, too, because _that_ wasn't girly at all.

When I took a better look at Ed, I saw the ratty old t-shirt was the Shins shirt I had given him as a sort of souvenir when he couldn't come to that concert with me. The signed shirt. From two, nearly three years ago. He... he had kept it. And still wore it. I ducked my head to hide my embarrassment and, dare I say, slight happiness. "Isn't that a little big to wear around? I mean, I'm sure there are more appropriate things to wear..."

"But -" Ed protested. Then he sighed, took the shirt off and tossed it back into the corner, and turned to face me. "_Fine_. Got any better ideas?" _Piercing_! That _jerk_! I rejected the possible response of _Keep your shirt off!_ It wouldn't accomplish anything but more distraction and embarrassment on my part. Even if I could, I mean, but... there was no way I was going to touch - no matter how much... Dammit, focus!

"I don't know," I said shortly, staring at my interlaced hands. "It's your closet."

Ed glanced at me, then sighed again. "I don't know what to _wear_," he whined, sounding very much like a five year old girl as opposed to an eleventh grade guy. "Ugh, I'm such a girl -" (_'scuse me, Ed, who do you think you're talking to?_) "- I mean, ah fuck, why don't you come over and pick something out before I fuck _this_ up?"

Why would he be worried about fucking up something as simple as picking out a damn shirt? I mean, he was just picking out _clothes_, and, yeah, coming from me... He was making a pretty big deal out of it. But, ah, well... I got up and moved to the closet, keeping a foot between me and Ed for safety's sake. Upon closer inspection, Ed's body was really, _really_ toned, and I wonder what kind of workouts he did to get into that shape, because _man_... Shirts. Focus on shirts. I haphazardly flipped through the garments in his closet. "This is all fancy stuff."

"Er, yeah, Mom likes to keep it in there so it doesn't get _wrinkles_ or whatever. Let's try the dresser." And then, before I could sidle away, his arm was around my waist. His _bare_ arm. Like, his _skin_ was touching me. It was warm, almost hot, and I could _feel_ the closeness of his body just behind my back. His _piercing_. Ah, shit, I had been so distracted that I didn't even elbow him away or something, and we had already crossed the room to the dresser. I was about to shove him away - one must keep up appearances even if proper reactions are delayed - when Ed let go himself. I breathed a sigh of relief and asked, "So where are your shirts?" I was proud my voice didn't tremble and I didn't run away screaming, or something. Shit. My heart had yet to slow down.

"This drawer," Ed supplied helpfully, leaning across me to open it. It was hard to keep from jumping away.

Okay. The drawer was filled with, duh, shirts, and I rifled through it hastily, grabbing a random black shirt and practically shoving it into Ed's face. "Here."

The mystery garment turned out to be a boring plain black shirt - out of all Ed's graphic tees and patterned shirts I had to pick the _lame_ one - that fitted snugly over Ed's torso, meaning his muscles were sometimes visible through the fabric. As was the silhouette of his piercing. Damn, I just couldn't win. Ed finished putting on the shirt and I turned away, pretending I hadn't been watching the way his muscles had rippled as he pulled it over his head - yeah.

"I don't think I was having an off day at all, in fact I thought the test was really easy."

Huh? Wha- Oh, right, we were going over a test. Ed had slumped on his bed and I sat down beside him - two feet between us, safety first. "Maybe you weren't reading carefully enough?" I suggested, picking up my own test.

"But I think I only got about fourteen right... And I did read carefully. I went back and checked my answers five times."

_Maybe you caught a sudden case of stupid_, I was tempted to say. But the logical follow-up to that would be _Oh, wait, you were born with that_. I rolled my eyes and peered at Ed's test. Maybe he was telling the truth when he said he legitimately failed. There were tons of dumb mistakes even _I_ could see, and a lot of his answers didn't even make sense. I figured number six was appropriate for the situation: "The more I learn, the less I know," I read out loud. "Why irony?"

"Well, the idea of learning a great deal to discover you know less is ironic, right?" Ed asked with a hopeful expression.

I sighed. "Obviously not." I've never had much patience. But... really, Ed was kinda relying on me to help him on the test, as strange as that was, and so... Ah, he was so pathetic that being snappish made me feel like an ass. Kind of. "Um, according to Rix that is," I added, wondering why I had to be so nice. "But it does kinda seem ironic. Yeah. But it's paradox. Sorry."

Ed made a face. "I didn't by any chance manage to mix those two up, did I?"

"Yeah, you did," I said, holding back a derisive snort. "But it was an understandable mistake, you know?"

"I guess," Ed said noncommittally. I was putting all this effort into comforting him and he could only reply with statements like that? Geez, that's where trying to be nice can get you... I looked down at his test for another question we could go over without me looking like a total idiot, but before I could suggest something Ed said, almost like a question, "You were wearing glasses Saturday."

I glanced at him and then away, wondering about the sudden change of subject. "Yeah." I fiddled with my tie awkwardly. "Can't see otherwise."

"You looked, um, really hot Saturday." I flicked my eyes up at him again. He was still looking at me. And he thought I had looked hot. In my glasses. Had I really...? But glasses made me look like some sort of frumpy librarian type...

"With glasses?" I asked skeptically. It didn't matter, I didn't care. That litany had become a sort of song in my head. Doesn't matter, don't care, just a game, la la la. "Whatever you say. Next question?"

"Sure."

I picked out the first wrong answer I happened to see on the page - number fifteen, "Of the people, by the people, for the people." Ed had marked _unity_. What the hell. "Unity?" I asked him, raising an eyebrow. "This is English class, not Constitutional propaganda studies or whatever." A badly worded insult but I think it got the point across. "You need to look at these like literary terms."

"I thought it was unity because people was the unifying constant..." Ed muttered, sounding like he was in Calculus rather than AP Lit. "Like it is a very unified sentence... Fuck, what was I _on_ that day?"

I didn't even want to think of the many and varied ways I could reply to that statement. Okay. Be friendly. I laughed a little. "I told you it was an off day. Now do you know the answer?"

"Syllogism?" Ed suggested. It was obviously a guess, I could tell from his face he had absolutely no _clue_ what he was talking about. "Um, continuity - wait, no, that's a math term."

"I guess not..." I sighed. How idiotic... "It's parallelism. Since, um, I guess you can remember it like all three parts of the phrase are parallel to each other. Constructed the same. Or something." To be honest I had guessed on that answer. I had no idea what I was talking about.

Ed frowned. "What _is_ a syllogism then?"

Ah, fuck, like _I_ knew what the hell it meant? "Er, it's a type of argument with two premises and a conclusion," I said, quoting something Sloth had told me a few weeks ago when we had learned the term. I still hadn't quite figured out what she meant. "...You should probably review the terms yourself. I guessed on that one to be honest."

"Hey, still, Izumi says that's mostly what the AP test is. And she got a 5 on _all_ her AP tests, friggin' genius woman." I had no idea what Ed was saying but... it sounded like a compliment? Maybe? He was smiling, anyway.

"Thanks," I said, ducking my head a little just in case I was blushing. "What's next?"

"I think that's mostly what my mistakes are," Ed said, meaning, I supposed, he hadn't known what half the terms meant. "Except twenty. I guessed on that one, chose the word I didn't know... Wrong strategy, apparently. I really wanted to call it a synecdoche, but that wasn't on the list."

"Wait," I said, rereading number twenty. "You're not serious, are you? I mean..." I was trying hard not to be insulting, really, _really_ hard, but twenty read "The cross is such a thing for Christianity." And we went to a fucking _Catholic school_. "You _are_ Catholic, aren't you?"

"My mom is," Ed said dismissively. "It's just the church she drags me to every Sunday. Um, the entire service is in Latin so it's not my fault I retain nothing. And synecdoche is totally an answer; you're using part of a thing to represent a whole. Like the cross represents Christianity. Or like in that movie _Synecdoche, New York_, where he creates the city and yeah..."

I massaged the bridge of my nose, reassessing my evaluation of Ed's intellectual abilities. Maybe it hadn't been an off day when he had taken this test - maybe every day of his _life_ was a fucking _off day_. "The cross doesn't represent Christianity," I said, trying (and probably failing) not to sound condescending. "It's a symbol. A symbol of Jesus' death. I'm not even _religious_ and I know that." Just because his damn mass was said in Latin didn't mean Ed had an excuse to be so dense. But before I got too mean, it was subject changing time - "What movie?"

"I told you, _Latin_, I don't speak Latin," Ed said huffily. Like I said, no excuse, bub. "And I try not to let the brainwashing get to me... Um, it's this really cool film that came out last year. I never got around to seeing it."

"You've had Theology _how_ long?" I asked scornfully, wondering why we couldn't just hurry up and finish reviewing this damn test already. When I had left school a few hours ago I had thought that was the last I'd see of schoolwork for the day. But apparently not. And Ed was _perfectly_ capable of figuring out his mistakes for himself; all he needed was a fucking dictionary and a brain that wasn't fixed on... whatever it was fixed on. Didn't want to delve into that too deeply, at the risk of sounding arrogant. "What's it about? The movie, I mean." I figured that changing the topic of discussion completely would help him forget about the test. Maybe.

"Oh, it sounds pretty trippy, it looks like it's about this guy who for some reason decides to build a replica of New York City inside a warehouse and then something happens but of course the trailers don't tell you what, just allude," Ed replied with a shrug. Hmm, that told me a lot. (Sarcasm, that.) "Maybe we could rent it and watch it, together, sometime. If you wanted to."

"It does sound interesting," I said noncommittally. "I wouldn't mind watching it." But I carefully didn't say _with you_. Ed could think what he wanted. At this point I... I didn't want to watch it with him. It would be too awkward.

Ed looked at me for a bit, then turned back to his test, but luckily only to shove it back into his bag. "I think that's about all, I just should probably pay more attention and not think about y-" A pause, where Ed cut himself off and clamped his mouth shut. "And probably ought to look up those literary terms and stuff."

"Wait," I said, folding my test neatly in half and knowing I was being dumb to pursue this line of questioning. But I couldn't help it. I just... Wanted to make Ed uncomfortable? But it wasn't even that. I just wanted to know, for sure - "What were you going to say? Before you suggested the dictionary, I mean."

"Oh, nothing!" Ed said, and then, suddenly, "_Oh_ look at the time!" I followed his gaze to a digital alarm clock. It was nearly three. "You should probably call Sloth or whoever picks you up from school. And, um, would you like to stay for dinner? My mom... my mom has been dying to meet you since freshman year."

I was surprised at that, and a little disturbed. Ed's _parents_ - er, parent - knew about me? And, and wanted to meet... _me_? "You told your mom about me?" I asked, fiddling with my tie again and looking away. "I guess I'll call Sloth..."

"Yeah, well, I really liked you - _like_ you," Ed said. I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye; he was bright red. "Oh, and," he continued, "I know it seems weird but could I introduce you as my... boyfriend?" And, excuse me if I'm being dense, but those were the _last_ words I ever expected to come out of Ed's mouth.

Fin.

Twenty reviews. Let me say that again. Reviews.

No, but really, twenty good ones. Before Indy gets back from her vacation. I totally cheated/sacrificed my own reviews by posting early so you'd have a head start. Twenty good ones…


	20. Chapter 20

AN by indigo's ocean:

Sooo, guess what? I got back on vacation Sunday, August 2nd. Almost a month has now passed between the time I got home and the time PFF's chapter was posted and it wasn't because we needed twenty reviews - no, we _got _twenty reviews, and Potions nearly got her ass kicked for promising smut when I was away and out of touch (kinda). Her author notes will be monitored closely from now on.

No, this posting delay was because _someone _decided to take advantage of _my_ vacation and not write. And keep not writing until I threatened her, "Okay, no cute Al/Wrath roleplay until you finish writing that beast." Incidentally, my next chapter is done. I say this because it's the first time I'm in the lead and I'm a jerk and also, this is revenge for back in June and early July when that same _someone_ would not stop bugging me about _my_ chapters.

Ah, anyway, in case any of you care my vacation was really fun, though I got sunburnt TO THE EXTREME. Like, seriously; there were a couple blisters on my shoulders and it hurt like hell. I couldn't wear bra straps properly until - well, let's see, I got sunburnt on Monday after swimming in the beach for five hours straight and reapplying twice; I could put on my bra straps the day we left the beach which was like, Friday. Definitely one of the more, if not the most, painful experiences of my life.

Speaking of painful experiences, ostriches are scary. Like, seriously scary, man. Like, scary like the velociraptors in _Jurassic Park _scary.

_With that said_, enjoy the chapter! It's really great, I must say, and Ed's thought's make me want to laugh. Except for the end. Gah. That made me want to run away, hide under my bed, and slit my wrists.

So you'll probably adore it! -bows-

Chapter by Potions For Foxes

**Stupid Cupid**

_(quit hitting on me)_

Chapter Twenty

Envy was still at his new favorite hobby: peering at me.

"Why'd you punch Roy, anyway?" Envy asked. My eyes widened. I don't want to answer this question ever. Oh God, could I have gone after Roy for a more stupid reason? I honestly don't think so. "Getting out some pent up aggression or something?"

"Uh," I turned red. You see, I thought that Roy shoved you and was being a jerk, so because I'm overprotective and stuff, I decided to punch him. Like _that _would go over well. "It actually may be more stupid than that." I looked away quickly. If I told him, he'd hit me, I knew it. "You'll probably hit me again if I tell you."

"You could get a bruise on the other side of your face," Envy suggested mockingly. "Then you'd match on both sides."

"Uh," I said. I looked down quickly. "I don't know about that." I don't want Envy to hit me, but if he hit me, he'd have to touch me. I want Envy to touch me. But, not that badly, though, well… _probably _not quite that badly. Yet.

"You never know," Envy said. He looked at me and slowly took a bite of his chocolate. I gulped. Couldn't think… clearly. "Until you tell me that is."

I then launched into what has got to be the stupidest explanation of my life. This is including the time I had to explain my bloodshot eyes, massive hangover, and bellybutton piercing to my lovely mother at Way Too Early In The Fucking Morning.

"Roy _shoved _you and I was really, really, really stupid and didn't think because he shoved you," I said, hoping that Envy didn't understand most of it (Sarah Palin's speeches make more sense than what I just said—okay, maybe it was a little more coherent than that). "Don't hit me?"

"Oh?" Envy said. He raised an eyebrow and you can really see the family resemblance there. "I hit Roy first, why not punch me in the mouth?"

"Er," I said. Because I don't like Roy, I like you? True, but like hell I'm going to tell Envy that. "Well, um," I said stalling for time. I looked away quickly. Fuck , I was an idiot. "I don't like Roy?" I smiled at Envy. Maybe it would hypnotize him into forgetting about this whole thing.

"Thought you were friends," Envy said. Fuuuuck. His chin is on his hand and he just looked so cute right now—and FOCUS ED! Now is not the time. Stare later, answer his questions now.

"Er," I said intelligently. "We're not close and…" I trailed off and closed my eyes. Fuck this was embarrassing. And so stupid. Just really stupid. "He _shoved you_." I repeated that again. It's essentially my reason for starting that stupid fight. I was just going to talk to Envy and then BAM! He's on the ground and I'm punching Roy. Yeah… Mom does say I'm too reactive.

I guess if you really thing about it, I don't like Roy. I mean, he's a nice guy but I'm jealous. And not of his height, I'm _plenty tall_. It's that—Envy _always _forgives him for anything. Roy's pulled some pretty stupid shit and Envy just forgives him. Just like that. It took him less than a day to decide he wanted to apologize to Roy about the cafeteria scene.

I know it's not as bad as the whole freshman thing, especially after what Sloth said, but I wanted him back quick. And it's not like I'd ever do something like that again; whereas Roy gets to be a repeat offender.

"I guess I'm a bit jealous too," I admitted. I drank some of my water and plopped an ice cube in my mouth. It's cold and it felt good against my tongue. I crunched it quickly. I was too agitated to just suck on it.

"Of what?" Envy demanded. "_You _want to be the one that shoves me?"

I stared out the window. The pair tree is beginning to bud. A bird landed in it. I sighed. Envy didn't get it.

"Why do you forgive Roy and not me?" I asked trying not to sound like it mattered. The bird flew away. Bummer.

"Forgive him what?" Envy asked. He doesn't get it at all. "I pushed him first."

"NO! Not about that," I said. How dense could Envy be? "I mean, oh this is stupid," I turned to him and looked at him, trying to see if he was lying or really didn't know. I couldn't tell. "You really want me to tell you?"

Envy paused. He looked confused. "Well, I mean," he trailed off.

"Alright, look," I said, trying to make this clear to him. "You just—he always—and it's not fair!" And there _goes _clarity. "Just you _why?_ I mean, I was an idiot freshman year and I can't believe I did that—so fucking stupid—I'm sorry and I like you and you always forgive Roy, but I guess I'm worse than that, right?" I laughed, or tried to, to avoid crying. I ended up choking on a piece of sushi, which _hurt _because it was caught in my throat.

But Envy was pounding my back and babbling about me not dying and being arrested for murder. Yeah, didn't make much sense to me, but I'm going to blame that on the fact that I was choking and thus deprived of oxygen.

"I'm—" I coughed, trying to get the damn thing out of my throat. "Not going to die." I gave up on not sounding gross and hacked up the sushi. I did swallow it instead of spitting it out into my hand.

And that's when I realize _Envy's still touching me. _He has his hands on my back and if I squint and don't move I can pretend that this is normal and we're dating or something. I smile, I really can't help it. It's just, he has his hands on me and yeah… smile.

"Good," Envy said. "I guess thinking about me and Roy is bad for your health."

"Yeah, no kidding," I said and looked over at Envy. He's just so … perfect? We used to be really close and he was my best friend for a while. My lip rise into a small smile and Envy _blushes_. He's so adorable but he removes his hand.

"Maybe you should give it up? You'll probably live longer."

"Maybe I should give—" I stopped myself from repeating Envy's sentence back to him. I should pay less attention to him and a little more to what he's actually saying.

"I mean, why should I worry about you and Roy, he's chronically straight, girls, and boobs and all that stuff and you're—" a terrifying thought occurred to me. What if Envy's straight? "Wait, you are ga—you aren't straight are you?"

"Uh, I didn't mean it that way," Envy said. He looked uncomfortable. I should drop it but… "I mean just, you know, in general."

"Well, I'm bi but you probably already know that, I mean Sloth had to have told you _something_. I mean, you do know that I'm bi right? But not like Russell, oh God not like Russell, he'd have sex with anything with a pulse. I think he draws the line there, God I hope he draws the line there."

In case it isn't already obvious, I babble when I'm nervous. I covered my eyes with my hands, trying to block out the image of Russell exhuming a corpse from a—not going there!

"Uh, yeah, Russell and I, um, talked in Psychology," Envy said. Ha! Talked my ass. With the way Russell was smirking… well it's not like I'm going to ask Russell. He'd probably lie and if Envy isn't going to say anything. "But yeah, I know that." I blinked as Envy leaned forward. He rested his chin on his hand and just _looked _at me. Didn't say anything, just watched me.

"Oh well, uh, that's good?" I wasn't sure. Honestly, Russell has that affect on people. "So ah, what about you?" Shit, I shouldn't have said that. Shut up Ed don't make it any worse that – "You're not straight, are you?" Fuck… Grin maybe he'll forgive you. Grin!

"I'm sure Sloth told you in your little chat. Don't ask if you already know."

Fuck. Envy's looking away and doesn't look particularly thrilled with the topic.

"Look, I'm sorry," I said. Fuck, I couldn't go five minutes without screwing something up. I was way better at this freshman year, back when Envy didn't hate me or distrust me. "It's just that—" when you asked if I was gay freshman year I should've said yes and kissed then we wouldn't be having this awkward conversation. "Oh right um," I paused. For a moment, I did consider the possibility that Envy was straight, completely forgetting that Sloth pretty much told me _I_ was the reason Envy was gay and I managed to miss that.

Was this conversation even salvageable?

"I don't think that telling you that I was terrified you didn't like guys for a moment there is going to help? But um, man, I don't think there's one thing I haven't fucked up with you, is there?" It's a question worth considering. Freshman year was a win until… yeah _that_. Then sophomore year didn't count because we didn't speak to each other. I guess not antagonizing him … can't really count and then now.

I ran my fingers through my hair. Manny's? But I didn't really do anything—except ask a few stupid questions. But how was I supposed to know they would set Envy off? And then lunch, I just asked him to lunch and he thought it was a joke or something. You can't call that my fault.

I guess, I guess what this thing consists of is me saying something and Envy taking it the wrong way and it just spiraling out of control.

"Well," Envy said and he's probably running through the same list of things that I am. The same very short list. "You did let me come here instead of my parents' hose, and you gave me chocolate." Envy paused. Well, that was surprising. I guess I'd— "But then again the fight was your fault in the first place, so I guess you're right." And then Envy did the weirdest thing. He smiled at me. _But I absolutely love her, when she smiles. _"You really do fuck everything up."

"He shoved you," I repeated. And yes, I realized that I was doing a phenomenal imitation of a broken record, but you have to admit it's a little better than doing an imitation of a _working _record. At this point, said working record would be playing Absolutely by Nine Days. Yeah…

"Happens all the time, Edo. That's what friends are for," Envy said and then looked horrified. I blinked. Edo. He used to call me that. I smiled at him. He .. maybe?

"You used to call me that freshman year," I blurted out. Yes, I was grinning. He called me Edo. "You're the only one who calls me—called me that."

Envy shifted on the stool.

"It was," he said and bit his lip. "I mean, I'm sorry. It slipped out."

"It's okay," I said, leaning closer. I wanted to touch his hair but I'm pretty sure that's off limits. I don't know why he's apologizing either. "I actually kinda like it."

There is an awkward silence. Well greaaaat. And since I wasn't Russell I couldn't—fuck what if he. Okay, there's no way Russell would sink that low. Not even he would do something like that. Besides, Envy said they talked, not kissed.

"Err," I said finally. Envy looked up. "Do you want to go back up to my room, I wasn't kidding about English." I looked around for something else to say. Fuck this was embarrassing, and I don't mean how I did on the test. "I seriously failed it."

"Well," Envy said hesitantly. "I mostly guessed." He trailed off but got up and followed me up the stairs.

"I seriously don't think I've ever done this badly on a test," I muttered as I hunted around in my backpack. I know I jammed the test in here somewhere.

"Maybe it was just an off day?" Envy said. I nodded vaguely as I unbuttoned my school shirt. It's getting a bit irritating and I hate wearing them when I don't have to. Russell, Ling and I all take off our shirts the second we get home or to _a _home. It didn't really cross my mind that Envy might take that a bit … differently.

"What the hell are you doing?" Envy demanded. I blinked and turned around.

"Huh?" was my eloquent reply. Not that I had to worry about witty responses or snappy comebacks at that point, not with the way Envy was staring at my belly button piercing. He was blushing too. He looked down.

"Why are you stripping? I thought we were going over the test?"

Okay, I was just going to change out of my clothes but…

"I generally study _naked_," I said with a smirk. I don't even know what I expected him to say, but I didn't ever thing he'd say something like:

"Oh really? Since it's your house, maybe I should study naked too."

My eyes grew wide. Envy. _Naked._ In my room. While Al and Mom were gone.

"Ah-ah-ah, if you want to?" I managed to stammer out. I hoped he'd say yes. "I was um, just going to, um, change out of school clothes and um, but if you want to that's fine too." I wasn't really sure what to do. On the one hand, I want to take this slow and not screw it up and this was a joke and it would be taking it way too fast. On the other hand, Envy. Naked.

"Just kidding," Envy said quickly. He grinned. He sat down on my bed and looked at his test. Oh. Well, that actually made more sense. It's disappointing but if we both were naked I don't think we'd do much going over of the test. I'm pretty sure Russell's hidden lube in my room too so… Envy's talking.

"Please put on a shirt."

"Don't like the piercing?" I asked, but turned around and grabbed a shirt off the floor. It's the Shins shirt that Envy gave me. I hesitated. It's a bit old but … I like it. "Do you want to change into something more comfortable? I don't know if you'll," I bit my lip. It's true but it doesn't mean I have to like admitting it. "Fit into my jeans or anything but…"

"I'm fine with my school clothes," Envy said. He was smiling a bit as he unbuttoned his shirt. I watches his deft hands carefully loosen his tie and tried _not _to think about where _I_ wanted those fingers to be. His black nails contrast with his pale skin. That's funny, he must've changed colors. I thought the purple looked better.

"Suit yourself," I said and pulled on the Shins shirt. I kicked my shoes off and yanked my socks off. I held on to the top of the dresser so I wouldn't fall over. I didn't want to look like a complete dork in front of Envy.

I don't want to take off my pants in front of Envy. That would be pushing it.

"Nice nail polish," I said, smirking a bit. Maybe he'd paint my nails sometime, at his house, when no one … FOCUS ED.

"Oh thanks," Envy replied. He slipped off his shoes and socks quietly and crossed his legs. He looked up at me and ducked his head quickly. Was he blushing? He looked up again. Maybe a little? "Isn't that a little too big to wear around?" he asked. "I mean, I'm sure there are more appropriate things to wear."

"But," I protested. I love this shirt. It's my favorite. Not only is it signed but… hey don't look at me that I have plenty of things from girlfriends past. I kept the stuff that Winry got me. It still counts even if she bought it for me _after _we broke up. I know I have that hideous sweater Rose knit me, buried in the back of my closet. I faked a wool allergy to get out of wearing that hideous lumpy thing.

Lyra… left a pair of panties in my room once. We didn't actually do anything (I have never been so happy to see Al) but Mom freaked over that one. Dad bought condoms and informed me if I had an illegitimate child, it was fine, provided it wasn't with Lyra. I'm not even sure if he was kidding…

And the Shins shirt is totally appropriate. It's not too big, it's comfy. Sure it had a few holes, but that didn't mean anything. So what if I had to rescue it from the Good Will bags a few times. That doesn't mean anything.

"Fine," I said, heaving a sigh. I don't see why everyone hates this shirt. I pulled it off and tossed it into the closet. I turned to face Envy. "Got any better ideas?"

He looked away quickly. Couldn't stand the sight of me and my rippling abs for very long, not to mention my sexy piercing. Bet I'm going to make an appearance in his dreams tonight.

"I don't know," he said, still not looking at me. "It's your closet."

"I don't know what to wear!" I whined. _I want you to dress me._ "Ugh, I'm such a girl," I said instead of that. "I mean, ah fuck, why don't you come over her and pick something before I fuck _this_ up."

Envy gave me a disgusted look and walked over to my closet. He kept his distance, as though getting close to me would kill him or something. Maybe if he got any closer he wouldn't be able to resist my hot stomach and awesome piercing. He'd look at me with lustful eyes and say 'Take me now, Edward.'

"This is all fancy stuff," Envy said. Wait what? Oh that's right, we're in reality not a badly written porno. Damn.

"Err, yeah, Mom likes to keep it in there so it won't get _wrinkles _or whatever," I said. I think it's to keep Winry from getting the idea of storing her extra stuff in there. As is, she will go on and on about how guys don't need walk in closets. She's very jealous of the closet. Something about displaying her shoes and stuff. Me, it's where a lot of Rose's gifts reside. In addition to the sweater, there's also an extremely hideous throw blanket, a pair of mittens with no thumbs, and the ugliest pair of socks ever. Mom's always after me to give it to Good Will, but first off I don't think that even the hobos on the streets would want it, let alone the Salvation Army. Secondly, it would be my worst fear that Rose would discover it, realize it was the sweater she gave me, and bawl her eyes out in the store.

I'd like to avoid that.

Winry can't decide if it's sweet or if I'm an idiot. Russell calls me paranoid. But Ling has read _Flipped _and agrees with me. It's best not to throw out gifts from girls who like you. It always ends badly.

"Let's try the dresser," I suggested and carefully slip my arm around Envy's waist. He didn't jerk away or spazz. Instead he just let me lead him across the room to my dresser. I removed my arm before he could stab me to death with his elbows.

"So where are your shirts?" Envy asked. Damn. The arm thing didn't affect him at all. Not fair, was he made of stone or what?

"This drawer," I said and pulled the middle one open. I watched as Envy bent over slightly to search my drawer. His ass, and whole backside really, looked amazing. His shirt rode up a bit and there was this thin line of pale, pale skin that disappeared instantly when he straightened and thrust something into my hands.

"Here," he said. I pulled it one. So what if the pulling and stretching lasted a little longer than strictly necessary. It's not like Envy was complaining or anything. He was totally checking me out. The shirt was tighter than something I'd normally wear. It clung like mad to my body and my piercing, which can be really uncomfortable. Piercing gets caught on the shirt and that is not a good feeling. Of course, the fact that Envy kept looking at me out of the corner of my eye definitely made it worth while.

I slumped down on the bed. I really did need help with English. I can't believe I did this badly on the test.

"I don't think I was having an off day, in fact I thought the test was really easy." Compared to the effort it took _not _to lunge across the room and ravish you senseless in front of everyone because you're just that sexy and I'm just that shameless.

"Maybe you weren't reading carefully enough?" Envy suggested. He sat down on the bed, keeping his careful distance.

"But I only got about fourteen right," I said, falling back across the bed. "And I did read carefully. I went back and checked my answers like five times." Because otherwise I would've thought about you with that whip in that costume and gotten a raging hard on in English and that would've been all sorts of horrible.

Envy looked at my test. He was probably shocked at the sheer number of errors present. Probably thinks I'm stupid. I'm _not._ Envy's just extremely distracting. And he had been biting his eraser and there was no way I could think about grammar when he did stuff like that.

"The more I learn, the less I know," Envy said, reading off the test. I looked at him. "Why irony?"

"Well, the idea of learning a great deal only to discover you know less is ironic, right?" I said, smiling. Or at least that's what I figured it meant. Envy rolled his eyes. Apparently I was wrong.

"Obviously not, um according to Rix," he said. He paused, then "But it kinda does seem ironic. Yeah. But it's a paradox. Sorry."

That sounded really familiar. I remembered going over the two a while ago and thinking that it was very hard to tell them apart. I think the difference is that irony is more sarcastic while paradox ends up being a bit Zen like. Actually, I think a lot of Zen _is _paradoxical sayings that reveal the truth of the world. Or at least that's what Ling claims they do. Fuck…

"I didn't by any chance manage to mix those two up, did I?" I asked. I spent several minutes debating on which to use and unlike now, didn't remember Ling's inane Zen tangents.

"Yeah, you did," Envy replied. "But it was an understandable mistake, you know?"

"I guess," I said and shrugged. Envy was still in his school uniform. It looked pretty prim and proper, yet oddly sexy. A lot like Saturday actually when he was wearing those glasses and… "You were wearing glasses Saturday?"

"Yeah," Envy said. He brought his delicate looking fingers up to fidget with his tie. The afternoon light glinted off his black nails. They sparkled or glittered, like car paint; only when he turned them the black wasn't just a sparkly black, it was purple and green and really very cool. Iridescent. _But every once in a while you find someone who's iridescent, and when you do, nothing will ever compare. _I think Envy's iridescent.

"Can't see otherwise."

"You looked, um, really hot Saturday," I said. It didn't even register that that was something I shouldn't have said to him. It just slipped out.

"With glasses?" Envy asked. He doesn't seem entirely convinced. But it's true. He looked amazing Saturday, with his hair loose, the sweater, and, yes, the glasses. He looked… perfect. "Whatever you say, next question?"

And he just ignored the fact that I was hitting on him. Weird. But at least he didn't punch me.

"Sure," I said and waited.

"Of the people, by the people, for the people. Unity?" Envy asked, looking at me with a raised eyebrow. "This is English class, not constitutional propaganda studies or whatever. You need to look at these literary terms."

"I thought it was unity because people was the unifying constant. Like it is a very unified sentence… Fuck what was I _on _that day?" My reasoning had sounded so much more brilliant in my head. Read aloud, well, it sounded like I was blazed out of my mind. OR thinking of Envy in a French maid outfit. Same thing. Maybe not.

Envy giggled at me. He actually giggled. It was so cute.

"I told you it was an off day. Now do you know the right answer?" he asked, cocking his head to the side and giving me an encouraging look.

"Syllogism?" I said, taking a wild guess. The word sounds cool but that's really not the best test strategy. "Um continuity—wait, no that's a math term." I had no idea what I was talking about.

"I guess not," Envy said and sighed. I bit my lip. I didn't mean to be so incompetent. "It's parallelism. Since, um, I guess you can remember it like all three parts of the phrase are parallel to each other. Constructed the same or something."

Well, that made sense. Sorta, not really. But Envy was trying, and I learned later, doesn't have much experience with the whole helping people study sort of thing. Sloth is pretty good about her school work and I think that she'd rather ask people who might you know… _do _her than Envy. And Envy's not all that fond of Wrath.

"What _is _syllogism then?" I asked. This test would have gone so much better if I had known what these terms actually meant and hadn't been thinking about Envy.

"Err, it's a type of argument with two premises and a conclusion," Envy said. He didn't sound entirely sure himself. Oh well, I'd just look the terms up later when Envy wasn't sitting on my bed. "You should probably review the terms yourself. I guessed on that one to be honest."

He _guessed _and got a hundred percent?! That was so unfair. It's not like I actually studied or anything, but to just guess on most of them and get them all right. That's really not fair. Come on, how lucky do you have to be?

"Hey, still," I said, not wanting to give Envy another chance to yell at me. I had quite enough of that at Manny's. I smiled at him, trying not to seethe. "Izumi says that's mostly what the AP test is. And she got fives on _all _her AP tests. Friggin' genius woman."

"Thanks," Envy said and blushed a bit. I smiled. He's really cute and I wonder if he holds his liquor like he holds compliments. Now _that _would be interesting. He ducked his head a bit and his green hair obscured his face. "What's next?"

"I think that's mostly what my mistakes are, except for twenty. I guessed on that one, choose the word I didn't know, wrong strategy apparently," I said with a shrug. "I really wanted to call it a synecdoche, but that wasn't on the list."

"Wait," Envy said. He looked at his test again. "You're not serious, are you? I mean." He looked at me like he couldn't believe I was quite that stupid. "You _are _Catholic, aren't you?"

I bristled at that.

"My _mom_ is, it's just the church she drags me to every Sunday," I replied. "Um, the entire service is in Latin, so it's not my fault I retain nothing. And synecdoche is totally an answer. You're using a part to represent a whole. Like the cross represent Christianity. Or like in that movie _Synecdoche, New York_, where he creates the city and yeah." I trailed off. Okay, I knew that the cross wasn't actually a part of Christianity in the literal sense, but I had to defend my answer somehow.

"The cross doesn't represent Christianity," Envy said exasperatedly. "It's a _symbol_. A symbol of Jesus' death. I'm not even religious and I know that." He paused. "What movie?"

"I told you, _Latin_, I don't speak Latin," I said. I don't pay attention in church at all either. For example, last Sunday I figured out that I was bi and really attracted to you. I don't say that. It's a good reason, but I didn't think that Envy needed to hear that right now. "And I try not to let the brainwashing get to me." I slept through theology classes. Dad kept offering to take me to get something else pierced if I actually failed one, but the look on Mom's face, well, I still only had two piercings. "Um, it's this really cool film that came out last year. I never got around to seeing it."

"You've had theology how long?" Envy asked. He sighed frustratedly. "What's it about? The movie, I mean."

"Oh, it sounds pretty trippy," I said. "It looks like it's about this guy who for some reason decides to build a replica of New York City inside a warehouse and then something happens but, of course the trailers don't tell you what, just allude." I hesitated. Maybe… "Maybe we could rent it and watch it, together, some time. If you wanted to."

"It does sound interesting," Envy said. Damn. I don't know what to make of that. Is that a Interesting—I'm being polite and want to slap you interesting or I would like to see the movie, but not with you interesting, or You're shit at synopsizes interesting. Maybe it's I'd like to see the movie with you, but I'm too scared to tell you interesting. Whatever species of Interesting it was, it made me nervous. And I _babble _when I'm nervous.

"I think that's about all, I just should probably pay more attention and not think about y—" I shut my mouth before I could finish that work. Fuck. Maybe he didn't notice. Quick Ed! Pretend it didn't happen! That should work! "And probably ought to look up those literary terms and stuff."

Nice save.

"Wait," Envy said, eyeing me strangely. I smiled at him. Nothing to see, I didn't say anything incriminating. "What were you going to say? Before you suggested the dictionary, I mean."

"Oh nothing," I said quickly looking away. God I hoped I wasn't blushing. "Oh! Look at the time! You should probably call Sloth or whoever picks you up from school. And um, would you like to stay for dinner? My mom," I paused. Should I? Well, he was going to find out eventually. "My mom has been dying to meet you since freshman year."

"You told your mom about me?" Envy asked. He looked away quickly and twisted his tie in his hands. "I guess I'll call Sloth."

"Yeah, well, I really liked you—like you," I said. My face felt like sunburn. It was probably bright red too. "Oh and I know it seems weird, but could I introduce you as my." I couldn't help but smile at that thought. I'm not really asking Envy out and it's not like he'd agree but… "Boyfriend?"

He spun around and glared at me. Fuck that was the wrong thing to say. "I don't know how easy you think I am, Elric; that's pushing it. What the _hell _are you trying to pull?"

"No I mean, fuck it's just that my mom and I _know _the first thing she's going to ask is 'Are you two finally dating?' so you can either have to explain that to _her_ or." I grinned. "You can be introduced as my boyfriend."

Envy snorted. He wasn't impressed with my strategy. Yes, I did have a strategy. It was very vague, but it was there. Actually it was pretty much, Get Envy To House (check), Be Nice (check?), Show As Much Skin And/Or Piercing As Possible (check), and Wait (in process of being checked). It was working very well.

"Asshole. Fine. Don't take it too seriously."

See, improvement. I smiled. He said _too _seriously, implying I could take it a little seriously.

"So, if I want you to be my boyfriend, what do I have to do?" I asked, looking at Envy's purple eyes. They looked particularly vibrant in the sunlight. "Hmm?"

"Probably a lot more a lot more than making me fear your mother," Envy said. He tossed his test to the side and it floated to the floor. He lay down on the bed with his hands behind his head and looked up at the ceiling. I wished he wouldn't. I don't know how or why Ling did this, but he felt that it was necessary to staple a poster of Michael Phelps to my ceiling. It wasn't Phelps in his dolphin compression suit either. No, Ling preferred the old school speedo shot. Him and all the girls on the swim team.

"Oh?" I asked before I lay down next to Envy. I didn't touch him. I didn't want to push it after the whole I Want You To Pretend To Be My Boyfriend thing. Hence, no touching. I like my hands attached to my wrists, thank you very much. "Like what?" I asked, looking over at him. Just because I wasn't going to touch him didn't mean I wasn't going to seduce him. I cleared my throat and said in the sexiest voice I could manage:

"Envy, what do you want me to do?"

He smiled at me. My stomach cartwheeled, my libido shook a tambourine and my heart thudded a bass drum wildly. His eyes were halfway closed and let me tell you this, Envy's eyes set the gold standard for Bedroom Eyes. He's practically the definition.

"You could start by getting off the bed," he purred. My eyebrows flew up and my libido dropped the tambourine in shock. No way.

"O-oh?" I said trying to string a thought together. Bed off me? Start get me off? _That _couldn't be it… Off bed you me? Me off you bed? Envy glared. Riiiiight he still thought my brain was working… But _eyes _and he had a sexy voice. "But where would I go?"

Envy didn't look impressed with my lack of movement. I sighed and clambered off the bed. I sat on the floor and looked up at him. "Happy?" I asked sarcastically.

"Ecstatic," he said. Then sat up suddenly. "Ah shit I forgot to call Sloth." He searched his pockets for his phone before dialing a number quickly. His fingers blurred together and his nail polish flashed.

"Hey," Envy said before pausing. He frowned. I really wished I had some way of eavesdropping on this conversation. Well, more so than usual. "I won't be—" He stopped. I wanted to know what Sloth said. Damn. "Yeah I figured you would've heard." Okay, they were probably talking about the fight. Envy agreed to something and then glanced at me. I pretended to look very interested in the carpet. "Well, Ed invited me to his house." I wasn't going to look up. I wasn't going to look up. "For English you dumb shit!" I looked up. What had Sloth said? "We're studying!"

Then I really wanted to know what Sloth said because Envy blushed and looked flustered. "We're not!" Really wanted to know what Sloth had just said. What exactly was Envy denying?

"Yeah… Um yeah." Booooring.

"And, um I'm staying for dinner." Envy turned red again. Then: "Fuck you. Tell Pride. Can't say the feeling's mutual. Bye." He turned to me. "Sisters."

Personally, I don't think that Sloth is all that bad. Then again I don't live with her.

"At least she behaves in public," I muttered think of Al. "You wouldn't believe what Al has done." I paused. A thought occurred to me. "Oh! Envy, after dinner can you have Sloth pick you up? Tell her to bring Wrath." This would show Al…

"Encouraging creepy behaviors in little children, are you?" Ednvy asked giving me an apathetic looked.

"From what I remember you don't have to encourage Wrath much," I said. Most of it was just enabling. Wrath was perfectly capable of being really creepy all on his own. "Besides, this is vengeance for Monday morning and that Kitler."

"Right," Envy said. "I only understood about half of that but it's okay. Explanations are not required." He flopped back down on the bed, his head resting on my red pillow. It's almost a family heirloom. The red flannel covering is actually part of my great-grandfather's old coat. It's worn soft over the years. My great-grandmother hand-sewed it together and stuffed it with down from the geese on the farm. It was never officially given to me… It was just when we were all at the farm and I was seven, I got the stomach flu and ended up cuddling with the pillow… Great-Grandmama decided to let me keep it. She's given one of those pillows to all her great-grandchildren. Great-Grandpapa had a lot of shirts.

And now Envy has his face buried in it. I don't mind. Maybe the pillow will smell like him. OR it could posses hypnotizing powers and he'll end up staying forever… okay it probably doesn't have that. Though when I was little I used to think it had healing powers and would always clutch it when I was sick.

"It involved me waking up at five-thirty," I said. That morning had sucked. The whole cat spraying, Febreeze, getting accused of early morning pot smoking by Mom, and then Al… Al and his stupid cat. "Not fun. So um, I got off the bed, didn't I? Any other conditions? Aren't you going to ask me to do Twelve Labors, like Hercules? Or should I just go slay a dragon?"

Envy curled up like a cat. He buried my face in the pillow. I winced. First off, you know what I said about how I thought it had healing powers? Well that means that there's a lot of snot, fever germs, and God only knows what else on that thing. And it hasn't been washed in a while…

His hair fell over his face and he peered at me through one eye. "To by my boyfriend?" He paused. "Um… your pillow's." Ha, too bad, you're not getting that. Great-Grandmama said that _I_ was to keep that pillow and she would _know _if I gave it away or lost it. Sure, she's dead… but I don't think that would stop her. Mom said I get my stubbornness from her… "What if I told you to go swim the English Channel?"

Ah, now that I can do.

"I'd do it," I said. Freezing water is easier to cross than long dead ancestors. "Wet suit or no wet suit."

"Naked," Envy said, grinning impiously. "Wait, scratch that. What if I told you to fuck Roy?"

Uh… no? I don't think Roy would be too thrilled with that idea.

"Uh, I'd really rather not," I said. It'd be rape for one and I just don't see that happening. Ever.

"Ah, I'm still kidding," Envy said. He sounded surprised. Probably because I didn't say no. "You're really committed." Well, yes, of course I am. And, most girls find that incredibly sexy.

"Good because I'd need years of therapy to get over _that_," I said and made a disgusted face. Al would say I Told You So and mock me. And then there's the whole I don't see Roy being willing to do something like that ever. Not in a million years. "Can I join you on the bed? Please?"

Envy looked at me before scooting over. Win. Wait, he still has the pillow. Damn. I think all the pathogens in it are dead. I hope so, otherwise Envy's going to get really sick after this.

"Fine, as long as you behave," Envy said giving me a suspicious look, like I'd try to molest him or something. Which I wouldn't do. Molest that is, unless Envy consented but that wouldn't be molestation then, would it. I grinned and sprawled out on the bed. Why pressure him when I can just tempt him?

"When's your mom coming home?" he asked suddenly. He sounded a tad panicky. Was that little amount of skin causing that? If so I could reveal more, much more. "I mean, when can I expect my doom?"

"Err, probably pretty soon," I said, stretching again. I arched my back and _reached _with my arms. I loved stretching. "She has to pick Al up and then I think she's going to take him shopping for his costume. He's in the school musical or something."

"We don't have a school musical," Envy said. He sat up suddenly. I smiled and looked up at Envy. He looked so vulnerable, sitting on my bed, clutching the red pillow to his chest. His hair was mussed and the light is perfect. He matched the room, surprising because the color scheme is creams, browns, and dark green and he's green, pale, and purple. But the afternoon sun made his skin glow, his hair matches the room regardless, and his eyes—his beautiful, expressive wide purple eyes. The golden sun turned them deeper, more vibrant, like rich gemstones or velvet or jewels.

And I think I could stay like this forever, just staring at him.

FIN.


	21. Chapter 21

AN by: Potions For Foxes

Sorry about the extremely long wait. I know you guys gave us the 20 reviews from the last couple chapters and all, but then what happened was that I had family issues and stuff. So my writing streak was derailed. Then Indy and I got sidetracked by RPs (it was about Stupid Cupid!)… and yeah, then I started college. Yes, I am now in college and there will be some college one-shots coming up… maybe. Count on at least one.

So yeah, my excuses. Oh! Yeah and then my chapter is already done. This helped cause the delay for this chapter you are about to read.

See, this ends on an awesome cliffy. So I decided to not be awful and make you wait extremely long after another cliff-hanger. Feel lucky? Eh?

Anyways, this is, as usual, an awesome chapter. There is actual Ed and Envy interaction and a couple twists. Here you find out a little more about Wrath and Al. I actually drew out a picture of Ed's room. I should post that on Deviant Art.

So yeah, epic chapter. Don't do the update reviews. Won't get you anywhere. Oh and I'm as bummed as you are about the lack of updates. I actually haven't been writing at all. It's awful. If you're still pissy about it, consider the state of Stuttering Toward Ecstasy. I updated after about 7 months… that was in July.

But the chapter is so awesome. Now I'm off to my Non-Western Studies class taught by this epically AWESOME Venezuelan woman with the bitchin'-est accent EVER. Tah!

Chapter by: indigo oceans

**Stupid Cupid**

_(quit hitting on me)_

Chapter Twenty-One

"Could I introduce you as my... boyfriend?"

...What? _Boyfriend_?! I whipped my head around so quickly I nearly got whiplash, and my voice was flat and angry as I said, "I don't know how easy you think I am, Elric; that's pushing it. What the _hell_ are you trying to pull?" I wasn't even faking anger. I was, however, covering up any emotional distress and confusion and hurt that I might or might _not_ have been feeling.

Ed's eyes widened for a second before he regained his equilibrium. The jerk. I really didn't know what the hell he was doing, it was, it was... "No, I mean, fuck, it's just my mom and I _know _the first thing she's going to ask is 'Are you two finally dating?' so you can either have to explain it to _her_ or -" and now he was smiling! smirking! "- you can be introduced as my boyfriend."

So that was his master strategy, and he had neatly backed me into a corner. I snorted and accepted my defeat as gracefully as I knew how. "Fine. Asshole. Don't take it too seriously." Looking away, I fiddled with the edges of my test, which had now grown quite ragged from nervous fidgeting.

Ed watched me for a few seconds, then asked, "So if I want you to be my boyfriend, what do I have to do?" I blinked at him, surprised. "Hmmm?" he prompted, when no response was forthcoming.

I knew I was blushing, but he sounded so damn _earnest_! "Probably more than making me fear your mother," I muttered a bit churlishly. Ed didn't deserve a response like that - well maybe he did, sorta - but... I don't know. He was... he was assuming a lot. Sighing and deciding to screw the consequences, I tossed my test aside and flopped down onto Ed's bed. He'd probably - no, he'd _undoubtedly_ take it the wrong way, but I was tired. And Ed's bed felt nice and soft. I put my arms behind my head and stared at the ceiling.

"Oh?" Ed asked, lying down on his side next to me. From the corner of my eye I could see him staring at me, but at least he wasn't _touching_ me. "Like what?" His voice was low and a little husky and... and really sexy. "Envy, what do you want me to do?"

I suppressed a shiver with great effort. The way he said my _name_... Turning to face him, and _ignoring_ the fluttery feeling in my stomach, I smiled at Ed. "You could start by getting off the bed," I suggested in a purr. A slightly menacing one, even. Sloth had taught me well. I just hoped Ed would listen - this was uncomfortable and I didn't _like_ it.

"O-oh?" Ed asked, blinking and looking slightly dazed, making me realize that my actions might have had effects I hadn't thought about. He raised his eyebrows. "But where would I go?" I looked at him flatly, and finally, with a sigh, he got off the bed and sat on the floor. "Happy?"

"Ecstatic," I told him frostily, and favored him with a knife-edged smile. The next minute I was sitting up and fumbling in my pockets like a freshman looking for his ID card. "Shit, I forgot to call Sloth!" I dialed her number hastily - quicker than speed-dialing or finding her in my contacts, seeing as her number was the first I had memorized when we had both gotten our first cell phones seven years ago.

She picked up on the third ring. "_Hey, babe_."

For a few seconds I wondered whether she had mistaken my call for someone else, but... that was just the way Sloth answered the phone. For me, anyway, and I... wasn't sure if that was creepy or not. It probably was. "Hey," I replied. "I won't be-"

Sloth interrupted me with the ease of long practice. "_Coming home with me?_" she questioned. "_Yeah, Ross called me into her office to let me know. Seemed awful smug about it too_."

I wrinkled my nose. "I figured you would have heard." And once again, the Rossinator seemed to derive great joy from spreading my troubles around.

"_Yeah_," she said, sounding _horribly_ interested. "_Ed beat Roy up and you took them both down_?"

So that's what the rumor mill was saying. How flattering... I wasn't sure whether to laugh or blush or hit Ed in the face. "Um, something like that..."

"_And you're at home now_?"

I flicked a glance in Ed's direction. Shit, this was going to be awkward. "Well, Ed invited me to his house." I chewed on my lower lip.

"_What?!_" Sloth squawked, causing an annoying burst of static on my side of the phone. "_You? Ed? I bet he invited you just -_"

Cutting her off before she could start with her perverted fantasies any further, I snapped back with, "For English, you dumb shit! We're studying!"

There was a bit of a pause, where I could hear Sloth engaging in a muffled conversation with someone else. "_Sorry, dumb boy. Anyway... does that mean you accepted?_" I said nothing. "_You did! I'm so proud of you, En! So, are you making out yet? You are, aren't you! Or gazing into each other's eyes, lost in a world of your own..._"

I blushed and squawked, "We are _not_!" with probably a little more of an indignant tone in my voice than the statement really deserved. Not that I was in denial or _anything _like that.

"_You're pretty deep in denial, En,_" Sloth said, making an annoying _tsk-_ing noise that was just amplified by the cell phone. I swear the woman can read my mind. "_But anyway, I assume this means you want me to pick you up?_"

"Yeah," I replied automatically. But shit, she was going to come and get me right now, probably... "Um, yeah," I repeated for no particular reason except the fact that I _hate_ awkward silences. "And, um, I'm staying for dinner."

Sloth nearly squealed. If I had been standing within reach she probably would have hugged me - which brought to mind Ling's comments about the squishy and I nearly snorted. "_And you agreed?_" she asked, her voice reaching a nearly ultrasonic pitch. "_Ah, you'll have to tell me all about this when you come home... Make sure you kiss him goodnight!_"

I winced and blushed. That was... that was _not_ going to happen. And especially not with tongue! Not that, not that Sloth had _said_ anything about _how_ I was supposed to kiss him, even if the piercing - no! I gritted my teeth. Damn fetishes. "Fuck you. Tell Pride..."

"_You're on an incredibly hot date with a Russian model? I'll tell him you're having dinner at a friend's house. Tonight's a takeout night so it's no big anyway_." She giggled. Actually giggled. I think my eye twitched a little. "_Love you, little bro_."

My eye _definitely _twitched at that. "Can't say the feeling's mutual," I grumbled. "Bye." And I hung up with an exasperated sigh, not waiting for her reply - I was afraid of what she might say. "Sisters," I muttered to Ed, who had been watching me for the entire conversation with a slightly quizzical, mostly dumb expression on his face.

"At least she behaves in public," Ed said with a sympathetic twist of his mouth. "You wouldn't believe what Al has done..." His face transformed into an evil grin. "Oh, Envy, after dinner can you have Sloth pick you up? Tell her to bring Wrath."

Wrath and Al. I hadn't been paying much attention at Manny's but the way Wrath wouldn't shut _up_ afterward... Uck, freshmen. "Encouraging creepy behaviors in little children, are we?" I asked after enough of a pause to convey my disgust. I would really rather not see Wrath, but then again it _could_ be amusing....

"From what I remember, you don't have to encourage Wrath much," Ed commented, and I inclined to him slightly. Good point. "Besides, this is vengeance for Monday morning and that Kitler."

Um, okay? "...Right," I said skeptically. "I only understood about half of that but it's okay. Explanations are not required." I glanced around Ed's bed and snagged one of his pillows. It was plump and soft and the pillowcase clashed horribly with the rest of the sheets - which was fine with me, because Ed's bedspread was stripy green and tasteful and made me feel slightly like I was in a hotel. I lay down and used it to prop my head up. I like pillows.

Ed rolled his eyes - at the memory of whatever Al had done, I assumed, not at me. "It involved me waking up at 5:30. Not fun." He paused and looked at me with wide eyes and a slight grin, and I resisted the urge to smack my forehead. Or smack him. I was getting that urge a lot - good thing I have such self-control. (That was kinda sarcastic, by the way.) "So, um, I got off the bed, didn't I? Any other conditions? Aren't you going to ask me to do the Twelve Labors, like Hercules? Or should I just go slay a dragon?"

This had to do with our earlier conversation, before I had remembered to call Sloth. I frowned slightly. Geez, was he seriously considering that? I couldn't tell if he was joking or not... Uncomfortable, I turned onto my side, drawing up my knees and burying my face in Ed's pillow and inhaling surreptitiously. It smelled like Ed, which was... which was comfortable. Dammit. I was glad that only my eye was peeking out from behind the pillow and my hair, because I was probably blushing. "To be my boyfriend? Um..." I tried to stall for time: "Your pillow's nice." Of course, stalling for time would have been brilliant if I hadn't said _the first thing that came to mind_. I fumed silently at myself for a minute. Okay, saying the fifth thing that came to mind - after the denials and evasions: "What if I told you to swim the English Channel?"

"I'd do it," Ed replied quickly, and he actually looked like he was about to get up and bolt for the airport. "Wet suit or no wet suit."

"Naked," I retorted. His determination didn't fade. Huh, weird. I wonder what... Suddenly, an idea struck me, and I figured his reaction would make this too interesting _not_ to suggest it. "Wait, scratch that. What if I told you to fuck Roy?" _Also naked_, I was tempted to add, but that'd be redundant.

The determination faded from his eyes and he bit his lip, his brow furrowed. Yeah, not so ready to run to Roy's house now, are we? But... but he didn't reject it right of the bat, which was - it was weird. And unexpected. "Uh, I'd really rather not..." Ed said slowly.

_But he didn't say no_. Why not? I mean, I wouldn't have refused outright, but for... for totally _different _reasons (if you catch my drift, heh heh). And Ed... I didn't think those _other reasons_ were what had him so hesitant. I bit my lip; glad the pillow was hiding my conflicted expression. "Ah, I'm still kidding," I managed, striving for an airy tone. "You're... really committed." And if that ain't the understatement of the week...

Whatever. Ed liked me in a really intense, (slightly) creepy fashion and I had no idea what to think about that, okay, moving on. I yawned - the sun was streaming in through Ed's window and warming my back and making me sleepy, despite my anxiety.

"Good," Ed replied, visibly relieved. "Because I'd need years of therapy to get over _that_." I frowned into the pillow. _I_ didn't think Roy would be that bad... "Can I join you on the bed? Please?"

Asking permission...? I gave him a strange look but scooted over closer to the foot of the bed. And I kept his pillow, thanks very much. "Fine. As long as you behave."

Ed grinned and clambered onto the bed, sprawling out across the pillows near the headboard. His shirt rode up as he flung his arms out over his head, exposing a tanned strip of skin and the curve of his hipbone. Which was smooth and, and kinda fascinating and I wanted to touch it - but it was better than a piercing and I could ignore it. "When is your mom coming home?" I asked quickly, fastening my eyes onto the comforting red plaid expanse of pillowcase under my nose. That was safer. "I mean, when can I expect my doom?"

"Err, probably pretty soon," Ed said, flicking his eyes from me to the Michael Phelps poster on the ceiling, which was _weird_ and _staring at us_ - I curled a little further into my pillow. Ed had the opposite reaction - he reached his arms above his head and stretched, which made the shirt expose even _more_ skin and tighten over his abs and chest. I bit my tongue and looked away. "She has to pick up Al and then I think she's going to take him shopping for his costume. He's in the school musical or something."

"We don't have a school musical," I objected rather dumbly. It was beginning to get uncomfortable, lying next to Ed like this, even though we were at least a foot apart everywhere. I sat up and crossed my legs, still hugging the pillow to my chest. I've said it before, I'll say it again - I _liked_ that pillow.

Ed smiled and looked up at me with a slightly dazed expression. Um, I didn't want to know what he was thinking. "Al doesn't go to Amestris Academy. He's at Amestris Performing Arts and Sciences Academy." A note of explanation: APASA was a kind of magnet school for ours, I guess, if you wanted to use public school terminology. Except it wasn't Catholic, and they didn't have uniforms, and it wasn't as formal... But they were related somehow, I remember Daddy-Pride explaining something like that to me and Sloth, so just take my word for it, 'kay? "Last year the musical was on the rainforest and saving it," Ed continued, a look of wry amusement on his face. "I took Lyra. That... You know what her dad does, right?"

"I believe I heard something about that," I replied, gazing at Ed's bedspread. The varicolored stripes were almost hypnotizing. Lyra had been... had been a real bitch, and I preferred to avoid any thought of her at all. Or how Ed was, when he was with her. But when Sloth had found out that her dad was highly involved in some company that was developing tracts of land in the Amazon, she had been so pissed she rampaged into my room, throwing things. "Yeah, that'd be awkward."

"Awkward doesn't even begin to cover it," Ed agreed with a heavy sigh. "Something to do with the fact that a man who bore a striking resemblance to his father was cast as the villain. Al will probably ask you if you'll come," he continued, switching topics a bit unexpectedly. "Feel free to tell him no, but he's... persistent. God, my family is so embarrassing."

"Isn't everyone's?" I asked, trying to sound vaguely comforting. Speaking of awkward, I wondered what would happen if the situations were reversed and I was introducing Ed to daddy-Pride as my boyfriend. ... Excuse me while I try to control my laughter. But back then, it seemed like a horrible thought, and I frowned and twisted a lock of my hair in my fingers.

"No one is as embarrassing as Al," Ed muttered darkly, and stared at the ceiling instead of me. Good, keep ogling Michael Phelps, not me. "No one."

I bet Greed could give anyone's embarrassing relatives a run for their money. I mean, at least Al didn't stand around making _awkward sexual innuendoes_ and _leering_. I wondered if it would be more awkward or less awkward if he weren't ten years older than me. But whatever. "Oh really?" I asked. Because, you know, at least Ed wasn't trying to seduce me anymore.

"This one camping trip he wore blue mascara and he managed to 'accidentally' dye his hair this lime puke color. And then there was that other camping trip where he decided to wear frilly pink skirts and purple sandals," Ed told me with a kind of horrified relish. "It was so mortifying."

I blinked. I don't think even _Wrath_ would do something that blatantly... _weird_. And Wrath... "_Why_?" was the only response I could manage.

"I don't know," Ed said with complete honesty. "I think - I _hope_ - Al was just protesting the camping trip. Mom, of course, has this theory that if you just don't react to it, Al will realize he can't rebel if people accept it. Mom doesn't seem to realize that other people find it really, really, _really_ weird. I bet even Wrath isn't that bad."

Hmm, this was a competition now, was it? I dredged through my memory. I tended to try _not_ to remember the embarrassing things Wrath did, but I was sure they'd come back to me if I tried. "You'd be surprised," I began slowly. "He's crazy. Like, really crazy. He takes online classes instead of going to school and spends the rest of his time hacking government sites and watching weird YouTube videos."

"Al made Mom buy him a prom dress once," Ed said almost proudly. "Sure it was a Halloween costume, but still. Zombie Prom Queen would be cool for a girl, but Al..."

"Wrath once insisted on wearing a sequined fairy tutu when going to dinner with the family. It was pink." Grandma Dante had made the plans, and she was expecting _all_ of us to show. And we were already late and it would have taken Daddy-Pride too long to wrestle the brat out of it, so... we took him like that. The family was rich, anyway, so...

"That was the year Al planned the route," Ed continued, turning to look at me. He had propped himself up with his elbows and his shirt and ridden up, exposing his belly button piercing. That... _that_ he was doing on purpose. "I think he might have optimized it to include the most outrageously conservative households."

I was ignoring the piercing. _Ignoring_ it. I dug my nails into the pillow, pretended I wasn't blushing, and said, "Wrath started dancing around the place with a sparkly wand. He was yelling profanities too, and it was a really fancy, reservation-only restaurant." That was one of the few times our _whole_ family, from Grandma Dante and downward, had been in the same public place at one time. Now that I think about it, incidents like _that_ are probably why we don't feel the need for fancy, public family reunions.

"See, we don't go to those kinds of restaurants anymore," Ed told me easily. But - and I know it sounds horribly rich-bitchy of me to say - I doubted he had been to the restaurant I had been talking about. Or anything in its league, either. I mean, Grandma Dante was spending some _major_ bucks. "After that one time with the cockatoo, well..."

And despite the fact that our definitions of 'fancy restaurant' probably differed vastly, _that_ sounded interesting enough to deserve a follow-up. Unfortunately -

"Ed! ED! BIG BROTHER! WHERE ARE YOU?!" I winced at the shout. Al's lung capacity... _definitely_ rivaled Wrath's. Ed's eyes were wide too, though he had to live with the brat and I didn't see why he was so surprised. He rolled off the bed.

"Shit! They're home." He looked around slightly desperately. I watched, too numb with trepidation to actually react, and eventually his eyes fell on me. "Okay, could you... um, this is embarrassing, just let me put my arm around you or something?" My eyes narrowed. "But just so my mom doesn't get suspicious when I introduce you as my boyfriend!" Ed concluded hastily. If he had been the hand-wringer type, he would've been doing it now. At any rate, he was completely red. "Not that I don't want to put my arms around you or hold your hand, because I do. It's just that this totally isn't a ploy to get you to let me touch you. It looks that way, but it isn't. I respect your wish to want to take things slowly. Fuck, I'm bad at this."

He had managed to get that whole paragraph out in about a breath, which made me think that maybe extraordinary lung capacity ran in the family. It took me a while to process everything he had just said. Firstly, I didn't see why he needed to touch me, but maybe it was normal Ed behavior. And that whole thing in the nurses' office where he had tried to flirt by invading my personal space... Okay, it probably was normal behavior. Secondly, when had I ever expressed wanting to _'take things slowly_?' When had I ever said I had wanted to take things anywhere?! I hadn't! I really, really hadn't and, and this was totally sketch anyway!

"Er..." I glanced around the room, decided that I would face my doom like a _man_ (yeah, little sarcasm there too), put the pillow aside, and stood. "Fine. But only for a little!" I glanced around Ed's room, looking for some kind of mirror, so I could fix my hair. I mean, even _men_ (sarcasm!) have to look good when they're, you know, stepping onto the scaffold. But there wasn't anything remotely reflective in the room. Just the band posters and those dumb bookcases. So many bookcases... "Shit," I said, turning to Ed. "Is my hair messed up? Because if it's bad it's totally going to look like we were, um, making out or something, and..." Great. Now I was blushing. I decided not to finish that sentence. "Is it okay?"

"Here," Ed said, stepping closer and standing on his tiptoes to comb back my hair. Ugh, how embarrassing; I never think about how he's shorter than me until situations like this crop up... As his fingers brushed over my scalp I couldn't suppress a shiver. I know I've mentioned it before, but I _looove_ it when people stroke my hair, pet it, run their fingers through it, et cetera. All too soon, Ed arranged a few locks of hair across my face and withdrew. I wanted to tell him not to stop - head butt him like a cat and demand to be petted - but I didn't. Because it was Ed, not Roy or Sloth or whatever. And we needed to go downstairs. And it was _Ed_. "I think that's good," he said, looking at me critically. "How's mine?"

"Fine," I said, brushing my fingers through my hair to get out that tingly feeling in my scalp. Which wasn't because Ed touched it, it was just, just... side effects! From... something. And if I didn't actually look at Ed to check his hair, well, sue me.

Ed took a deep breath. "Alright, come on then." He grabbed my hand and rushed me down the stairs. I was just thankful I didn't trip over my own feet and end up sprawled on top of him; we were going that recklessly fast. At the bottom he stopped and interlaced our fingers. His hand was warm. I'm sure mine felt cold and clammy by comparison.

When we reached the kitchen entryway he let go and put his hand on my shoulder. His mother was busy unloading a series of plastic bags, but when Ed entered she looked up. And she actually... _looked_ motherly. Like, she looked just like what people imagine when they think 'mother', with her soft gray eyes and brown hair. And she smiled at me. I decided I liked her.

"Mom," Ed said, and I flinched - because although I was fine with her, I wasn't sure whether she'd like me after this. "Mom, this is my boyfriend, Envy." And then - _totally unexpectedly!_ - he trailed his hand down my back until it rested on my waist. Thank God it didn't go any lower.

Okay. Okay. I clenched my fist at my side, reminded myself to _fucking murder_ Ed later, and gave his mother the most charming smile I could muster, considering the circumstances. I... don't think I gritted my teeth, but that took a superhuman effort. "It's nice to meet you, Mrs. Elric," I said politely, and unclenched my fist to offer her my hand to shake.

She leaned over and took it. "Oh please, call me Trisha." No friggin way, not after we had just met... "Can I get you anything? Why don't you two sit down?"

"No thank you," I told her politely as Ed smiled and led me to the barstool. I steeled myself and tried my hardest not to squirm away or spazz or react the way my brain was telling me to or anything like that. Seeing as Ed didn't end up with a black eye and I didn't end up running as fast as I could away from his house, I think I succeeded admirably. When we clambered up onto the barstools Ed _finally_ let go of my fucking waist. To hold my hand. I sighed in slight exasperation and glared at him out of the corner of my eye. Dammit, he was grinning.

Suddenly, Trisha whirled around. "ED!" I flinched and started back, and Ed blinked, his eyes wide. "What happened to your face?"

"Uh, nothing, um..." Ed fumbled for some kind of excuse. And he was still holding my hand, which made me guilty by default! I quailed slightly under Mrs. Elric's - uh, Trisha's - piercing look, even though it was directed at Ed, not me. "Just got into a little.... er, altercation at school. Just one big misunderstanding, you know. _Roy's dad_ took care of it." He stressed 'Roy's dad' and I figured that the Mustang family was friends with the Elrics, to some extent.

"Oh," Trisha said skeptically, using that mom voice that promises This Is Not Over. Lust tended to use it on me a lot, when she was home. And Sloth did too... "Envy," Trisha said, turning to me. I started a little. Was she going to ask _me_ about what happened? Because, I mean, I didn't know what to - "I don't suppose Ed remembered his manners and asked you to stay for dinner?"

Oh. Oh, that was a relief. I smiled at her. "_Surprisingly_, he has." And, okay, maybe I was a bit of a bitch and that snarkiness was not necessary, but... he was still holding my hand, dammit.

"Mom," Ed said uncomfortably. She smiled and turned back to unloading the bags. At first I thought they were groceries but when I saw her pull out the roll of chicken wire and the purple fabric, I quickly reconsidered. We had better not be eating _that_ - and I thought Russian food was inedible! Several bags of suction cups and a few bottles of purple paint joined the chicken wire on the counter. What the hell.

Before I could even begin to guess what kind of crazy home improvement project that stuff was for, Ed squeezed my hand, leaned over, and whispered into my ear: "_She loves you._"

"ED! BROTHER!" Al yelled, and I winced as the psycho little brother bounded into the room. He stopped when he caught sight of me, and stared. I returned the favor and stared back. "Wait, who's your girlfriend?"

I stiffened and tried to yank my hand away from Ed, but he just grabbed it tighter. Maybe, along with an astonishing and slightly creepy lung capacity, _supreme idiocy_ runs in the family. _Officially_, I had no idea what Wrath saw in him. "I'm -" I began. I was probably about to say something really rude so it was a good thing I got interrupted.

"Envy's my _boy_friend, stupid," Ed said, glaring at Al. Ooh, my knight in shining armor... _not_.

Al's eyebrows nearly went through the roof. "Oh really?" he asked, skepticism evident in his voice. "Is he now?"

I glared at the granite countertop. It was okay, Mrs. Elric couldn't see me anyway. "_Not_ really," I muttered and made sure it was loud enough that Ed could here.

"Yes he is," Ed said firmly, and I spared a moment to admire the power of wishful thinking. Out of the corner of my eye I saw him turning away from Al, meaning the conversation was over. "So, Mom, what's with the chicken wire and stuff?"

But it was Al who answered. "It's for my costume," he said, and took a seat on the bar stools next to Ed, for which I was thankful. If he sat next to me I might've slapped him and permanently ruined my image in the eyes of Ed's mother.

"Who are you going to be?" Ed asked. He was _still_ holding my hand.

Al grinned gleefully, all suspicion of me forgotten. "I'm going to be a purple dancing sparkly octopus!" he cried happily.

Ed winced visibly, but I was slightly interested. Apparently my octopus-spirit-guide hadn't deserted me. I couldn't resist asking, "What's your name? In the musical, I mean."

"Uh..." Al replied, looking thoughtful. "I don't think I really have a name..."

"Might I suggest Vanessa?" I asked with a wry smile. But before the conversation could be continued, Ed decided to do his own octopus act, scooting closer and putting an arm around my waist. I resisted the urge to make a face and shove him away.

Trisha turned back to face us. "Envy, you're being to polite," she said with a conspiratorial smile. "Most of Ed's girlfriends elbow him away when he gets clingy like that."

I turned to look at Ed with a raised eyebrow. "Oh really?" So much for that whole 'my mom will get suspicious' crap. I knew it. Making a bit of an effort to be discreet - so as not to disturb Miss Trish - I pulled my hand away and shoved him off me. Hard.

"_Mom_!" Ed whined. He grabbed at my hand and held it tight, so I couldn't pull away without making a scene. "At least let me hold your hand," he hissed, clicking his piercing against his teeth. When I just glared at him - _ignoring_ the fact that he was attempting to exploit my piercing fetish once again, he sighed, whispering, "Please?"

"Why?" I snapped irritably. But I didn't make _too_ much of an effort to pull away. Ed looked like he was apt to start crying if I was that harsh.

"Because I like you," he whispered simply, and I knew I was blushing but I couldn't help it. "So Mom, what's for dinner?" he asked louder and I wondered how he could go from one topic to another so quickly and unaffectedly. Made me jealous. I watched him warily.

"I think I'm going to do spaghetti tonight," Miss Trish said, and startled an actual grin from me. "Or would you like something else, Envy?"

Geez, that was nice of her - being willing to change her dinner plans on account of little old me. I quickly shook my head. "Oh no, I love spaghetti." Not that I would've objected to anything else. Unless it was fried chicken or anything sounding vaguely Russian. Ew. But Italian food was _great_.

"Okay, well, why don't you two run along," Miss Trish said. "_Ed_, keep your door open, you hear me?" I blushed. Like we would be _doing_ anything that needed a closed door... "Al, don't you leave, I'll help you start on your costume in a minute." Good, so the brat wouldn't be following us.

Ed led me out of the kitchen and then dropped my hand. Thank _God_. I shoved it in my pocket. "Hey, thanks for putting up with that," he said as we climbed the stairs.

I snorted. "You expected me to slap you in front of your mother or something?"

"No, but you're not slapping me now," Ed pointed out. The obvious retort was that he wasn't practically molesting me _now_, but... I guess a couple of days ago I would have been beating the shit out of him or something. I sighed to myself. _Someone's_ gone soft. "And thanks for not killing Al. Though, you'll have to admit, this is pretty good reason to bring Wrath along."

"Trust me," I told Ed, "it'll be equally bad at home if he figures out where you live. Actually, once he gets your last name I can pretty much guarantee and invasion of privacy."

Ed shrugged. "Eh, one more weirdo won't make a difference. And he'd be following Al around, not me. They'd probably get along great if Al wasn't convinced that Wrath was stealing his best friend or something equally ridiculous."

"Ah, yes, ridiculous," I said with a twinge of irony. That reminded me of our fight at Manny's, which had been ridiculous, but... I chewed on my lower lip.

Ed didn't have a reply and so we entered his room in silence. The sun had gotten lower in the sky and the patch of sunlight on the bed had vanished, which was disappointed. At least my pillow was still there. I took a seat next to it and Ed hovered. The silence grew awkward quickly.

Okay, quick, I needed to come up with innocuous topics for conversation. Nothing weird, nothing _provocative_... I pretended to relax, leaning back and propping myself up with my elbows. "Your mom seems nice." There, that was good.

"Yeah," Ed replied, and seemed to take that as permission to join me. He leaned back too and his shirt rode up, exposing his piercing. _It was deliberate_, I swear! "What's you're family like?"

I sighed and my eyes drifted down to Ed's piercing. Um. I didn't like discussing my family at the best of times - if you thought _I_ was weird, well, it's genetic - and Ed was distracting me. "Strange," I said noncommittally.

"Oh," Ed replied, a little nonplussed.

Great, I had killed the conversation. I decided blabbing about my family would be better than letting an awkward silence start, so I continued hastily. "My dad owns a high-end security company, or something," I said, glossing over the finer details. "His wife is, um, a housewife?" And his business partner and Russian ninja spy and God knew what else - but whatever, didn't need to get into that. "My father's brother Greed lives with us too, when he's not traveling. Wrath's uh, Wrath is supposedly his son." But we hadn't gotten a paternity test for that yet, so it was all up in the air. "And then Lust, my aunt, stays at our house when she's in town too, with her creepy, um, follower, Gluttony. I'm not quite sure how he's related..." I shrugged. "And you know Sloth."

There was a pause in which Ed, I guess, tried to make sense of my tangled family tree. I wished him the best of luck - I had given up on trying to figure it out years ago. "Oh wow," he said finally. "That sounds like my dad's side of the family."

"Really?" I asked, not very enthused. I mean, at least he had found something to _talk_ about, but discussing family, like I've said, is unpleasant no matter what. "Interesting."

"Yeah," Ed replied, and began to fiddle with his piercing. Not that I was watching it, you know, but when it glinted in the late afternoon light I kinda had to look, and then I knew he was doing it on purpose just to make me watch him but his stomach was flat and toned and the piercing was there and it was metal and he was _playing_ with it and it made me want to touch it and touch his stomach which was probably warm... "They're all these crazy smart German people. My great aunt's convinced that we're related to this German prince or something. Of course, she only gets on that topic when she's _really_ drunk."

My mouth was dry and I was so spaced out that I couldn't think of any way to reply. Well, to reply _intelligently_, anyway, so after a pause Ed continued. "Yeah, she's really quite hilarious."

Still couldn't say anything. But you can't blame me, I mean, um, I mean - it was really hot, okay? Really _really_ hot. Not because it was Ed, but because it was - I mean -

Yeah, anyway. "So," Ed said, when it became clear that I wasn't about to break the silence, "what do you think of other types of piercings?"

I blinked. Shit, he knew what I was staring at. Not that it was _hard_ because I was so fucking spaced _out_, but... That bastard. Exploiting my fetish. As if he didn't have better things to do, like, you know, get a _life_ and chase after someone better than _me_. "Drop it," I said, glaring at him. I was - I knew I was blushing.

"Hey, it's okay," Ed said easily, smirking at me. "Go ahead, stare." And he leaned back obligingly, exposing his piercing even more. That - that _bastard_! Screw restraint, screw decorum, screw what-would-Ed's-parents-think. That _fucking_...

I sat bolt upright and backhanded him across the face. I made sure not to hit him with my nails, though - so there. I wasn't a total bitch about it. And anyway, he started it! Stupid fucktwat.

"Ow!" Ed said, clapping a hand to his face and looking offended. "What was that for?"

He knew _very well_ what that was for. I turned my back on him in a huff, figuring that and the bitch-slap would get the point across pretty effectively. More effectively than angry sputterings and loud denials on my part. Anyway I felt more comfortable staring at the wall than Ed's _face_. Or, or stomach.

"Look," Ed said, "if you want me to cover up just _say_ something." Which would be admitting weakness and therefore impossible and against the rules! Well, my rules, and I can't break 'em unless there are extenuating circumstances. These weren't extenuating, just embarrassing and completely unnecessary. "Look," he continued when I didn't offer a reply, "I'm sorry."

Begging already? Obviously he had a different set of rules. I rolled my eyes at the wall. It was really kinda pathetic, and normally I would've taken pity and turned back around, but I remembered what Ling had said about Ed doing anything when it seemed like one of his girlfriends was mad. I wasn't a _girl_friend or a boyfriend, but it seemed to be working all the same.

"Look, Envy," Ed said again, and I heard a rustling noise. Probably covering up that dumb piercing. "Better?"

I kept ignoring him even though my shoulders were prickling under his stare. At this point it was like a science experiment, although since I don't like science maybe it was more of an... observation diary. Whatever. I don't even know. It was hard to stop my shoulders from shaking when I stifled a giggle.

The bed shifted and I felt Ed closer to me, because the back of my neck was prickling now too and I thought I could feel the heat radiating off him. Though that might just be my imagination and don't be perverted about it, please. "Envy," he said, and my shoulders tensed as his breath brushed past my ear. "Envy, please, come on don't do this, please, just look at me. ...Please?"

Ah this was going a little too far and Ed was a little too close and I was more than a little freaked out by the funny twisting in my stomach. I forced a laugh and shoved him away. When I saw the shocked look on his face my laughter became real. "S-sorry," I managed between giggles. I was laughing half out of relief and half because it was actually funny. "You were - it was... too pathetic!"

Suddenly Ed tackled me and pinned me to the bed, like he was going to tickle me or something. My laughing died out when I realized he wasn't doing anything, he was just staring, and I had tried to ignore it but his eyes were gold or amber and reflecting the sunlight that now made a patch on one of the bookshelves... And Michael Phelps was staring down at me but he was too, with this _look_ on his face...

My breath caught and the bottom of my stomach dropped down. I don't know what kind of look I was giving him but when I shoved him off he let me, and we both sat up. If I had a choice I would have run off to some secluded corner where I could catch my breath and wonder what the fuck was wrong with me and get everything under control, but I... couldn't. Especially when he wrapped his arm around my shoulders. It was warm. _He_ was warm, and he was leaning in to say something...

And I couldn't... I couldn't breathe. My heart was beating so fast and I was dizzy and I didn't even know what he was saying. But his lips were moving, and, and his face was getting closer and _what_ was he saying? All I could hear was the pounding of blood in my ears. And then I tried to lean forward to listen to him but... but I _kept_ leaning forward, and our lips were getting closer...

And I kissed him.


	22. Chapter 22

AN by: indigo oceans

Well, it's Christmas Eve, my father is currently finishing up putting the Christmas lights on our tree, my brothers are playing a game on the computer, my mom is out shopping, Potions is playing with the English setter she's watching (in California, too, not _here_), and I am sitting at the computer writing this author's note. And fangirling deep in my heart of hearts over THE SHERLOCK HOLMES MOVIE THAT IS COMING OUT ON CHRISTMAS AND THAT I AM GOING TO SEE ON THE 26TH WITH MY HOMIES WOAHMYGOD YES.

Er. Right. I'm fangirling _secretly_, remember. Anyway. In lieu of flowers and chocolate - oh wait, that's Valentine's Day - this is our Christmas present to you, the next chapter in the saga known as _Stupid Cupid_ and boy is it stupid. I'M JUST KIDDING. Why doesn't FFN have that strikethrough thing like Livejournal? It would make my life like, ten times more awesome. Ahaha it's not stupid, and Potions is once again writing with humor and unforgettable teenage boy-ness, so much so that I wonder whether she isn't just lying to me and photoshopping all her pictures. Just kidding. But I could never write an Ed that equals hers in realism. And with that said, Merry Christmas or Happy Holidays or Have a Lovely Secular Feast Day or whatever you celebrate, and we hope you enjoy this chapter

Chapter by: Potions For Foxes

**Stupid Cupid**

_(quit hitting on me)_

Chapter 22

I blinked quickly. Shit! Envy just said something. About there not being a school musical at our school.

"Al doesn't go to Ametris Academy. He's at Ametris Performing Arts and Sciences Academy. Last year the musical was on the rainforest and saving it. I took Lyra. That," I trailed off. The memory was horrifying. Sure the sets were amazing, but with the clear environmental bias and small children dressed up as various animals and tribes peoples, well that was a bit much. Add to that the fact that older children got the parts of streams and wind and stuff (which ended up getting polluted) and it was very touching and poignant. But the part when the "villain" came on and Lyra realized it looked just like her dad…

Yeah, that was the moment when I realized there was a reason that Al asked Lyra to come and managed to procure front row seats, and it wasn't because he was being nice either. Lyra ended up seating through the whole thing. Personally I think it was a miracle that we made it to prom after that incident.

"You do know what her dad does right?"

"I believe I heard something about it," Envy said. He looked down. Lyra hadn't been exactly—okay she was a total bitch (but smoking hot), and I guess she was pretty nasty to Envy, and everyone else… "Yeah, that'd be awkward."

It was beyond awkward. What happened was that the media had heard about it and when they found out that Mr. Prideaux's daughter was present, they leapt on her and starting asking her all sorts of questions. I never knew that you could make "No comment" sound like a death threat but Lyra managed it.

"Awkward didn't even begin to cover it," I said, shaking my head slightly. "Something to do with the fact that a man that bore a striking resemblance to her father was cast as the villain. Al will probably ask if you'll come. Feel free to tell him no, but he's—" I struggled for the right word. "Persistent. God my family is so embarrassing."

"Isn't everyone's?" Envy replied insouciantly. His nail polish caught the light as he twisted his hair around his finger. It was a supremely girly gesture. And even though _I _have long hair, I don't twirl it like some high school girl. Okay, I do chew on the end of my braid when I'm nervous or writing a paper. But that's different.

I'm just glad Al had never felt the need to grow his hair out. He'd probably curl it or some hideously ridiculous.

"No one is as embarrassing as Al," I muttered. I can see him now, prancing around the department stores, his hair done up like Sarah Palin's. He'd do it too. That's why I'm confident that no one is more mortifying that Al. "No one."

"Oh really?" Envy looked speculative, but I seriously doubted that he had more embarrassing relatives. Between my mom's hockey playing brothers, the Australian emu rancher with the transvestite common-law wife (husband?), my dad's crazy (drunk) German relatives, and Al, I think my family can handily win an Embarrassing Family Contest.

"This one camping trip Al wore blue mascara and had managed to 'accidentally' dye his hair this lime puke color. And then there was that other camping trip where he decided to wear frilly pink skirt and purple sandals," I said and shuddered. "It was _so_ mortifying."

All Envy could say was: "_Why?_"

"I don't know. I think, I _hope_, Al was just protesting the camping trip. Mom, of course, has this theory that if you don't react to it, Al will realize that he can't rebel if people accept it. Mom doesn't seem to realize that other people find it really, really, really weird," I said. We got so many stares that vacation. Though this family from San Francisco told Mom that she had a 'beautiful daughter.' I think that was what made Al dress a little bit more appropriately. Which is extremely relative when applied to Al. I am soooooo glad he _doesn't _go to Ametris Academy. As much as I love him, I don't think he'd interact well with the dress code. "I'll be even Wrath isn't that bad."

"You'd be surprised," Envy said. "He's crazy. Like really crazy. He takes online classes instead of going to school and spends the rest of the time hacking government sites and watching weird Youtube videos."

"Al made Mom buy him a prom dress once," I countered. "Sure it was a Halloween costume, but still. Zombie prom queen would be cool for a girl, but Al…"

"Wrath once insisted on wearing a sequined fairy tutu when going to dinner with the family. It was pink."

"That was the year that Al planned the route," I said, looking at Envy. "I think he optimized it to include the most outrageously conservative households." My shirt has ridden up and my piercing is visible. Envy stared at it and even blushed a little!

"Wrath started dancing around the place with a sparkly wand. He was yelling profanities too, and it was a really fancy, reservation-only restaurant."

"See we don't go to those restaurants anymore," I said. I wasn't entirely sure that we were talking about the same tier of restaurants. Though apparently Uncle Jerry was doing pretty well in NHL so… "After that one time with the cockatoo, well…" And then there was that woman who started screaming about an illegitimate child and then that when Al—

"Ed! ED! BIG BROTHER! WHERE ARE YOU?!"

It. Was. Al.

I rolled off the bed in shock. Fuck this was bad and then Mom was going to find out about the fight and then knowing her she'd assume that Envy and I were dating and start asking questions and that would just be awkward and embarrassing. And I know that Envy had agreed to this but the problem is I'm always … _hands on_ with my girlfriend—not clingy and NOT touchy-feely.

"Shit! They're home!" I said, looking around the room. This was bad. This was bad. Mom was going to grill Envy if he said we weren't dating or just look really suspicious and drop awful _hints_. And she'd get so suspicious if I wasn't all over Envy, but if I did that, he'd… he'd… he'd probably kill me. "Okay, could you you… um this is embarrassing, just like let me put my arm around you or something, but just so my mom doesn't get suspicious when I introduce you as my boyfriend."

I was blushing. Shit!

"Not that I don't want to put my arms around you." As well as all over you. "Or hold your hand, because I do. It's just that this totally isn't a ploy to get you to let me touch you. It looks that way, but it isn't. I respect your wish to take things slowly. Fuck I'm bad at this."

Envy blinked, like he can't quite believe what he's hearing. I smiled hopefully.

"Er," he said finally. He didn't look entirely convinced. "Fine, but only for a little." SWEET! He said yes! I got to touch Envy! He didn't look as thrilled as I felt. In fact, he looked a little nervous.

"Shit! Is my hair messed up? Because if it's bad it's totally going to look like we were um, making out or something and." He trailed off and blushed. Oh? So that was what was on Envy's mind? This looked almost promising. "Is it okay?"

You really think I was going to pass up this opportunity?

"Here," I said. Envy's hair wasn't terribly messed up. Just a few strands out of place and he did look a little frazzled. I stood up on tiptoes to reach the top of Envy's head. I touched his sleek, smooth hair. It was so tempting to just run my fingers all the way through it, but that would make Envy suspect something. I settled for fingering the top gently before arranging the few mussed strands around his face. "I think that's good. How's mine?"

Maybe Envy would stroke my hair. Actually, my hair probably needed it more. I couldn't tell because I didn't have a mirror readily available, but I guessed it was pretty bad. Between the fight with Roy and Envy grabbing my braid, it probably looked like _I'd _been involved in a pretty rough make-out scene.

"Fine," Envy said barely glancing at my hair. Maybe it had fared better than I expected.

"Alright, come on then," I said. I grabbed Envy's hand (I was holding his hand!) and rushed downstairs, grinning. Before walking into the kitchen, I intertwined our fingers, glancing at the overlay of pale on tan. His longer, more delicate fingers laced with my larger ones, it was… it was really nice. I could almost pretend that we were really dating.

I gave his hand an encouraging squeeze before realizing that since we _weren't _dating Envy probably wouldn't find it comforting. I dropped his hand quickly and placed it on his shoulder instead. Mom had just brought in the last of the paper bags filled with (hopefully) food and Al's costume.

"Mom, this is my boyfriend, Envy," I said and smiled. I'd been dreaming of saying those words all of freshman year. Okay maybe not those exact same words, but close enough. And now they weren't even true… yet. I trailed my hand down Envy's back and placed it around his waist.

I had the strangest feeling that it would be suicide to venture lower. Still I have my hand around Envy Angeloff's waist. Thus my freshman dream has been attained. I didn't expect to look over and see Envy smiling charmingly. But he was. Did that mean that he actually was okay with this? That he liked it too?

"It's nice to meet you, Mrs. Elric," he said and held out his hand. Oh. I get it. He's just trying to make a good impression on my mom. That's a good thing too, it's just I thought he was smiling because … oh never mind.

"Oh please call me Trisha," Mom said shaking Envy's hand. She's charmed, instantly. Funny, the only other girlfriend—err, the only other Person Who I Was Dating to illicit that response was Winry (which almost doesn't count because she spent her entire childhood charming my mom). Not even Rose got that level of instant approval. She was a little too shy and retreating. And Lyra… was Lyra.

"Can I get you anything?" Mom offered, still smiling as she began to unpack the bags. YES! There was FOOD in them!

"No, thank you," Envy said smiling angelically. I shrugged. I doubted the question was directed at me anyways.

"Why don't you two sit down?" Mom suggested. Envy hesitated for moment and I led him over to the barstools where we sat earlier. I didn't let go of him. He fit so perfectly into my arms, despite the (slight) difference in height. It just felt right. I bit my lip and tried not to grin. Envy was looking vaguely murderous and this point and maybe I should just stick with handholding.

I slipped my hand off his waist and laced our fingers together. I didn't even care that Envy was glaring at me. I was holding his hand!

"ED!" Mom shouted suddenly, whirling around, roll of paper towels in hand. "What happened to your face?"

Shit! The fight! Fuck.

"Um, nothing, um," I said, trying to come up with something better than 'I got into a fight with Roy' or the actual true. "Just got into a littler, err altercation at school. Just one big misunderstanding, you know? _Roy's dad _took care of it." My mom liked Roy's dad, she still does. She considers him a upright type of guy—_for a Mormon._ Mom also likes his mom. I think they would've been great friends, had the whole Catholic Mormon divide/feud existed.

I glanced at Envy. Yeah, wasn't getting much help from that corner.

"Oh," Mom said and gave me a look. Definitely was going to hear about this later. However, Roy's dad had taken care of everything. I just hoped the school called to update Mom of that little development. The red message light was flashing 3 new messages, so perhaps they already did.

"Envy," my mom said in a much kinder tone. She smiled at him. "I don'y suppose Ed has remembered his manners and asked you to stay for dinner?"

Had I not been holding Envy's hand, I would've crossed my arms. I did too have manners. Winry doesn't count. She doesn't believe in me opening the door for her and chair pulling and stuff. But instead of calling Winry on it, Mom just accuses me of having bad manners. See the unfairness here?

"Surprisingly, he has," Envy said with a small smile. Oh come on. That was beyond unfair. Though, I guess the plus side is that I don't have to ask Mom if Envy can stay.

"Mom," I said because even if we're just faking it (for now), it's still uncomfortable for Mom to have a conversation with my 'boyfriend,' especially about me, especially when I'm still in the room. Mom turned around and pulled more things out of the bags. She set the chicken wire, paper mache, and some odd purple fabric on the counter. Several bags of suction cups join them, along with an assortment of purple paint.

What the hell is Al going to be anyway?

"She loves you," I whispered in Envy's ear. I'm about to say more, that Envy's doing wonderfully, that I'm sorry I can't let go of him just yet because I want this so damn much, that he's the most beautiful person I've ever met, and just anything to keep talking to him.

"ED! BROTHER!"

Talk about a buzz kill.

I jumped and cringe, bracing for one of Al's flying squirrel-esque hugs. Al skidded to a stop and stared. Right. I was holding Envy's hand and Al didn't know him.

"Wait," Al said, giving our hands a searching look before staring at Envy. He squinted. "Who's your girlfriend?"

Envy tensed. Fuck. He _hated _being mistaken for a girl and doesn't react well when that happens.

"I'm—"

"Envy's my BOYfriend, stupid," I said, glowering at Al. Seriously, he had to pick the worst thing to say to Envy.

"Oh really?" Al said giving me an appraising look. "Is he now?"

"Not really," Envy muttered looking at me. He glanced away quickly. What the fuck did I have to do to get him to like me?

"Yes, he is," I said, giving Al a look. I turned away from him. This was going to turn into a pointless and really stupid argument if we kept it up. I took a deep breath and reminded myself not to clench my hands. I was holding Envy's and I didn't want to hurt him. "So, Mom, what's with the chicken wire and stuff?"

"It's for my costume," Al said proudly. He grinned and sat down next to me. Good. After that girlfriend comment I doubted that Envy would've want to sit next to Al.

"What are you going to be?" I asked warily. I didn't know what sort of costume could involve suction cups and chicken wire. Perhaps Al was going to be the trash and stuff in the play.

"I'm going to be a purple, dancing, sparkly octopus!" Al said gleefully. I felt my stomach drop. This was… this was so _Al_. Of course, he would do something like that. Personally, I don't think you could get any more gay than that.

"What's your name?" Envy asked, suddenly interested. "In the musical, I mean."

"Uh," Al said. Al, apparently, hadn't thought of that one. "I don't think I really have a name."

"Might I suggest _Vanessa_?"

Oh, now who's encouraging creepy behavior in small children?

I pretended that Envy just hadn't suggest my brother be a girl-octopus, or that Al was actually considering it, and wrapped my arm around Envy's waist. He's … almost delicate but I know if I ever tell him something like that he'll bite my head off. I smiled.

"Envy," my mom said suddenly. "You're being too polite. Most of Ed's girlfriends elbow him away when he gets clingy like that."

There is nothing more embarrassing than when your mother says things like _that_ to the person you're dating, or in this case, want to date.

"Oh really?" Envy said, giving me a look. Fuck, he had definitely just realized that we didn't need to be this touchy feely to fool my mom. Cover was blown. He shoved me over him. Guess he didn't secretly want to touch me.

"MOM!" I moaned in exasperation. Did she really have to ruin it like that? I grabbed Envy's hand again. Mom ignored me in favor of organizing the materials on the counter.

"At the very least, let me hold your hand," I hissed, close to Envy's ear. I clinked my piercing against my teeth. Might as well pull out all stops. "Please?" and that came out a whisper.

"Why?" Envy said, but he kept his voice down. I leaned in closer.

"Because I like you," I said simply. There really wasn't a better explanation. I smiled. Envy looked at me, wide-eyed and wary, but he was blushing and he just looked so damn _cute_ that I— "So Mom, what's for dinner."

"I think I'm going to do spaghetti tonight," Mom said. I grinned. She makes the best spaghetti in the entire universe. "Or would you like something else, Envy?" I glared at him, daring him to protest. Instead, he actually smiled.

"Oh no," he said, still smiling. "I love spaghetti."

I filed that useful bit of information away and wondered if it applied to all Italian food or just spaghetti.

"Okay, well, why don't you two run along," Mom said, smiling. She probably wanted to work on Al's costume, something that I didn't want to watch. I mean, I guess I don't have much room to talk about stuff being gay (particularly as I'm holding Envy's hand), but … yeah the purple glitter was too gay. "_Ed_, you keep your door open, you hear! Al, don't you leave, I'll help you start on your costume in a minute."

Brilliant. I smiled as I led Envy out of the kitchen. I dropped his hand as soon as possible. He hadn't seen happy about the touching and then when Mom had blown my cover like that, well it was better to play it safe.

"Hey, thanks for putting up with that," I said as we walked up the stairs. Envy snorted derisively.

"You expected me to slap you in front of your mother or something?" he asked. _Yes._ Yes I did expect that. Only it's not polite to say things like that and it probably would make him slap me if I said it.

"No, but you're not slapping me now," I said. Which was also surprising. I mean, I thought that as soon as we got out of earshot he'd—maybe I _do_ have a chance after all. "And thanks for not killing Al. Though you'll have to admit that this is a pretty good reason for Wrath to come along."

"Trust me, it'll be equally bad at home if he figures out where you live. Actually, once he gets your last name, I can pretty much guarantee an invasion of privacy."

"Eh, one more weirdo won't make much of a difference," I said. Between Al's inherent bizarreness, Dad's chem students, Winry (and the feminist pamphlets that generally followed), Ling (who liked stapling posters in odd places), Russell, and whatever Al dragged in off the street, there was no normal at my house. Aside from my mom, but she tends to write the shopping lists in Latin… Wrath would practically fit in here. "And he'll be following Al around, not me." I paused. "They'd probably get along great if Al wasn't convinced that Wrath was stealing his best friend or something equally ridiculous."

"Ah, yes, ridiculous," Envy said. He looked guilty or worried. I shrugged and walked into my room. Envy sat on the bed and I hovered awkwardly. Envy fidgeted before:

"Your mom seems nice."

There wasn't much I could say to that. I sat down on the bed, opposite him and leaned back. So what if the shirt rode up a bit, Envy was the one who picked it.

"Yeah," I said. "What's your family like?"

It's a valid question. Envy didn't volunteer much information about them freshman year. I knew Sloth was his half-sister and Wrath was related to him somehow and he mentioned something about Pride or another sin while he was hissing at Roy, but other than that I'm clueless.

Envy just shrugged. "Strange."

"Oh."

Well there goes that conversation.

"My dad owns a high security company, or something," Envy volunteered quickly. "His wife is, um, a housewife?" His wife? Wouldn't that make her Envy's mom? That doesn't make sense, unless Envy's family is part of a hardcore Mormon group. I seriously doubt it. "My father's brother, Greed, lives with us too, when he's not traveling. Wrath's, uh, Wrath is supposedly his son." They didn't know for sure?! "And then Lust, my aunt, stays at out house when she's in town too, with her creepy, um, follower, Gluttony. I'm not quite sure how he's related. And you know Wrath and Sloth."

"Oh wow," I said, trying to sort all the maybe relations out. I give up. It's like my dad's family reunions. Eventually you stop worrying about _how _the drunk German man is related to you and start worrying about how to dodge those bone crushing hugs. "That sounds like my dad's side of the family."

"Really?" Envy asked. He looked surprised. "Interesting."

"Yeah," I said. I fiddled with my _navel piercing_ (it sounds less girly than 'belly button piercing'). "They're all these crazy-smart German people. My great-aunt's convinced that we're related to some German prince or something. Of course, she only gets on that topic when she's _really _drunk."

I looked at Envy. He nodded vaguely.

"Yeah, she's really quite hilarious," I said and smiled at Envy. He wasn't saying anything, just staring at me with—oh. That. Well, this was going to be interesting.

Ow! Fuck! He slapped me.

"OW!" I yelped, rubbing my face. "What was that for?"

Envy gave me a look before turning his back to me with a huff of breath. His shoulders looked tense and his whole body seemed to be radiating unhappiness and tension. Good move, Ed.

"Look, if you want me to cover up, just say something." You don't have to hit me. "Look, I'm sorry."

He didn't move. At all. He's ignoring me.

I tugged my shirt down. Okay, so the constant piercing thing probably wasn't the best ideas. I guess, no, I know he didn't like that. It was… really stupid. I just wanted him to—well, it wasn't like he was paying attention to me now.

"Look, Envy, better?"

Still nothing.

"Envy," I said and moved closer. I wanted to place my hands on his shoulders, but I don't think that's a good idea. "Envy, please? Come on, don't do this." I ran my fingers through my hair. "Please, just look at me." I sat down next to him. "Please?"

Suddenly he shoved me away laughing. "S-sorry," he managed to get out between peals of laughter. "You were—it was too pathetic!"

Oh, so that's how it is?

I tackled Envy and pinned him easily. He didn't put up too much of a struggle and as I stared down at him, I realize this. I'm in love. I don't just like Envy. It's not just that he's the Dream Girl who happens to be a boy (that looks like a girl), not it's not that. It's _him._ I want him. And maybe it's not love but it's warm and it's the afternoon and it's sappy songs that I want to sing and it's staying like this forever, and I don't know if that's love, but whatever it is, it's happening Envy and me and I want it.

Envy … he just had this look on his face, like for a split second, and it's gone before I knew what it was. He laughed and shoved me off as he sat up.

I just smiled and rested my arm around his neck. I can get away with this, right? This is a completely manly thing to do. It _could _be purely platonic. It isn't, but it _could_ be. Right? I grinned and leaned into tell Envy that we should go out to lunch tomorrow, just go somewhere.

"Envy, do you want to…" He leaned in closer and he was looking at me in this _way_. It was just super intense and I tried to continue: "Go to lunch with…" He kept moving closer and I couldn't focus, couldn't _think_, not with him this close. "G-go lunch… with me …you?"

And he kept leaning forward and I kept trying to string words together, like my life depended on it and I was blushing and turning bright red and…

"L-lunch go you? Me with go lunch? You?"

And his eyes were closed and I don't think he heard a word I said and I couldn't think. He wasn't going to, no fucking way. I couldn't move it was… this couldn't be happening. His face was moving closer and it was pale and, and—his lips brushed mine—

I closed my eyes and leaned into it, praying that this wasn't a trick of my over-active imagination, that Al wasn't going to wake me up, that Envy wasn't going to pull away—

He deepened the kiss. My eyes widened and I slowly opened my mouth. It was amazing. It was unreal. It was like floating and wet and different than Lyra, Rose, and Winry and Ling.

It was gentle and slow and careful, but it was beautiful. It was like coming home, so familiar and right, but new and anticipated and brilliant. I can't taste him, but it's wet and slippery and sexy and I can _smell_ him, his shampoo or something and it's the clean, warm scent of clothes fresh from the dryer, and summer, and sun, and cool like creek water on hot days and…

Then it hit me.

ENVY IS KISSING _ME_!!! _HE _KISSED _ME_!!!

And then, right when I got used to it, he pulled away. I leaned forward before I caught myself, what? Wait, what but no, it was kissing and now. I blinked. That was fucking amazing. He I kiiiiiss and wow. Yeah, pretty much just… wow. I touched my lips, I swore they were tingling. He kissed me. Envy kissed me. He really kissed me. And it's funny that I still felt like I was floating even though he'd stopped and pulled away from the—our—kiss. KISS. He KISSED me. I stared at him, he's beautiful he really—he kissed me. He doesn't look too—he KISSED me—happy though, more worriedly like—KISSED ME!—something's wrong.

"S-sorry," he said finally. His eyes are glued to his hands in his lap. Why is he apologizing? I smiled and tucked his hair behind his ear. He's so utterly adorable. I gently touched his chin and tilted his face up so I could look into his eyes. I can touch him, right? I mean, he _kissed _me.

"Hey," I said softly, still smiling. "You don't have to apologize." I looked into his eyes and like that I was gone. He's just so perfect and I've wanted this, wanted him, for a long time and he's finally mine or I'm his and it's perfect and it's beautiful and I'm happy.

Envy looked away and apologized for something, probably his earlier apology. It's cute. He's cute. He kissed me! I ran my fingers through his hair. I can do this, right? We can touch now that he KISSED me.

"Envy," I said, looking at him again. He's so heartbreakingly gorgeous and just amazing. His porcelain pale skin is flawless, his eyes—just his eyes, and his hair, I love his hair and I don't ever want to stop stroking it "I—I really liked it."

And I'd like to do it again, only this time longer. Or maybe we could cuddle.

"I, um, I…" Envy said and blushed. I smiled and leaned forward to—

"ED! ENVY! DINNER!"

Dammit Al.

"Guess we'd better go," I said, taking Envy's hand, this time it's real. I grinned. It's real. It's finally real! "Hey, Mom thinks we're dating." Just in case Envy forgot and thought I was trying to take things too quickly. I pulled him close to me and kissed his cheek before walking downstairs.

Together, we walked into the kitchen. Mom smiled when she saw us. I dropped Envy's hand gently. No need to make things awkward.

"Help yourself," Mom said, looking at Envy. I smiled and slipped my hand back into his, only to tow him over to the food. Really, that was the only … okay so what if I just like touching him. He _kissed _me.

"AL! The paint will wear off! Come out of the bathroom!"

I eyed the bathroom warily. God dammit Al! This was going to be so embarrassing. I didn't even want to know what Al was covered in this time. Though, I guess Envy wasn't going to be taken completely unawares… not like what happened the first time Lyra met Al…

I piled spaghetti onto my plate, before ladling a generous helping of sauce over the noodles. Envy was over by the salad and he moved over when I joined him. I glanced at Envy's plate. There wasn't much food on it, especially not compared to mine.

"Hey, I thought you liked spaghetti," I said. Envy just looked away. Fuck. What did I do this time? I popped a croton from my salad into my mouth just as Al walked out of the bathroom. I laughed and choked on the oversized breadcrumb.

Al… Al is … oh fucking God this is hilarious. Al is, predictably, covered in purple paint. It's smudged _everywhere_. He has glitter in his hair and it looks like he either ate a bunch of blueberries or applied purple lipstick without a mirror. There are sequins, _sequins_, glued to his eyebrows. His nails are vibrant lavender and his hair has purple streaks in it.

"Al, you, glitter!" I managed to get out between peels of laughter. "Oh God! Glitter hair!" I turned to Mom, still laughing. Even Envy was laughing, discreetly as if he wasn't sure if it was allowed. "Mom, take a picture or something!"

Mom hid her smile behind her hand. "Don't worry Al," she said sweetly. "I think most of it will wash off in the shower." I grinned and sat down at the table. Envy followed me quickly.

"Hey, Dad," I said.

Dad looked up. He'd just swallowed something, probably aspirin. He gets amazingly bad migraines all the time (which he passed on to me, but not Al. Fuck you, genetics). Still, he looked relieved that his normal child was talking to him. Time to ruin that.

"This is Envy, my boyfriend," I said, grinning at Envy. I reached under the table and grabbed his hand. "Envy this is my dad." The slightly pained looked returned to Dad's eyes. Score.

Envy grinned at Dad and said: "Nice to meet you, Mr. Elric."

Dad nodded in response.

He doesn't speak much when he gets migraines. Me, I just moan and curl up in the fetal position.

"Why are none of my children normal?" Dad asked, finally. I glared at him. That wasn't necessary.

"Hey! Both Envy and I are glitter-free!" I protested. Dad ignored that outburst and poked at his food. We never ate until grace was said.

"Actually Ed," Envy said, looking at me. I blinked. "I think there's some on your nose." He reached up to touch my nose and my eyes crossed. He pinched it.

"You get it off?" I asked, grinning at him. This was so awesome. Envy was so awesome. "I wouldn't want to be covered in glitter or anything."

"Mom!" Al, ruiner of fun and flirting, said loudly. "Ed's being disgustingly cute. Make him stop!"

"Please." Envy said, smiling at Mom. Oh? Think you're not a part of this. Well—

"Oh no!" Al said, echoing my sentiments. "You're part of this too!"

"Let them be," Mom said and actually winked at Envy. That was … odd. Still, we had her blessing and as long as she never found half the things that Ling or Russell hid in the house… Envy actually grinned back at Mom. That was good. At least dinner wasn't going to be too awkward.

Mom clapped her hands together. "Okay, time to say Grace." I sighed. Al rolled his eyes. Dad just looked like he was suffering. Though that really could be the headache. "Bless us, O Lord and these, thy gifts, which we are about to receive from They bounty through Christ our Lord, Amen."

Fin.


End file.
